


Tongues v2.0

by Necrowmancer



Series: Tongues [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dovahzul, F/M, Follows Cannon (Except For When I Don't), Follows Game Plot Then Diverges, Gen, Gore, Literal Dragon Souls, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mute Protagonist, Necromancy, Sex, Soulmates, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 123,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necrowmancer/pseuds/Necrowmancer
Summary: The life of the necromancer Casil was simple - steal from the battlegrounds of the Civil War, melt down the metal, sell it back to the Civil War's suppliers. But after witnessing the sudden dragon attack on Helgen, Casil reluctantly decides to report the incident to Whiterun- a act that will throw her into a millennia-old prophecy to save the world. It's not her reluctantly that's the problem - it's that the dragonborn, fated to save the world, is mute. Casil must push past her problems with a long-forgotten figure in order to complete her destiny- or else risk bringing about the end of the world.Rewrite / Updated Version of a previous fic by the same name.Miraak appears in Chapter 17 (I am so sorry hhnfk)





	1. I - Kiin [Beginning]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tongues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277587) by [Necrowmancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necrowmancer/pseuds/Necrowmancer). 



> I told myself I wouldn't do this but after 6 months of staring at my old document, unable to get myself to continue, I decided to shoot myself in the foot with every creator's biggest mistake and re-write this. So. I will try, once more, to push through this. I apologize to my old readers, and to any new readers. I am a humble college student with hyper fixation problems. Expect updates in bursts of 20 or one in every 5 months and no in between.  
> -Dovahzul/Draconic translations will be placed at the end of chapters  
> -Will be following previous fic, with a lot of edits to issues in characterization, plot, lore, and so on  
> -Chapters with sex will be marked  
> -For those of you looking for Miraak specifically, he does not show up until Ch.17
> 
> And, as always, bless all you souls who read this and SUPER bless to all ya'll who kudo's / comments.

The gentle, steady breeze that carried the distant tang of camp smoke rustled the stiff tundra grass that coated the landscape outside the walls of Whiterun. Overhead, a goshawk circled on the thermals as it searched for unsuspecting prey, its shadow occasionally passing over a pair of figures far below.

A burly redguard man and a thin bosmer woman sat huddled behind a heap of rocks on one of the taller hills, a few burlap bags strewn about them. The woman stretched out, adjusting a sack she was using as pillow before throwing a arm over her face again to try to block out the sun. The redguard didn’t put down his spyglass, scanning the horizon line.

“Ya _really_ sure it’s worth stayin’ here, Casil?” The man grunted, finally pulling the glass away. He turned his head with irritation, arching his brow as he looked to his companion.

She didn’t move beyond giving him a simple nod of her head.

He rolled his eyes. “‘Course it is for ya. Ya haven’t lifted a finger since we got here,” he grunted, before turning back to examine the field with his naked eye. Nothing. Nothing, as far as his yellow eyes could see. Well, he supposed there was a small herd of elk a mile or two away. He felt his stomach growl, but he ignored it. No people. At least three well-worn dirt roads passed through the area that they could see from their hill, but not a single soul had walked down any of them since they’d arrived- probably a good five hours prior. “I’m tellin’ ya,” he continued, leaning back against the hill, “it’s the war. People ain’t gonna travel like they used to, even with winter ‘round the corner. Shit’s been gettin’ worse and worse. Might’ve been a good spot five years ago ‘for all this shit started but it ain’t no good now,” he said. He set the spyglass down in his lap, pulling a whale bone toothpick from a pocket in his leather armor. He brought it up to his badly scarred lips, starting to pick at his gnarly yellow teeth.

Finally, the woman sat up. She rubbed her face, squinting vibrant orange eyes at the landscape around her as she re-adjusted to the bright light of the sun. She let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t wrong, and she hated that. She waited until his gaze was on her again before lifting her hands. A string of motions followed, each gesture punctuated with a look of irritation.

He chuckled, taking a moment to absorb what was being conveyed. “Look, I know, I know, but this ain’t productive. Least we could do is hunt some elk or somethin’. At least we could use that,” he grunted, eyeing the elk on the horizon again. “Or sell it. Sure someone would buy it. Ain’t like folks are out huntin’ with everythin’ going on either.”

Casil sighed, rubbing her chin as she followed her companion’s gaze. All cows, decent sized. Frankly, she was surprised they were still wandering around- with how desperate the war had gotten, game had started to hurt in other parts of Skyrim. She supposed that Whiterun was still relatively strife-free in comparison thanks to its refusal to participate, but maybe that should have just made game hunting here easier. She shoved it out of her mind, simply shaking her head. ‘You just want to chase something,’ she signed to him, rolling her eyes this time.

“Yeah, I do. It’s borin’ sittin’ here,” he whined. “Ya ain’t the one watchin’ fer shit. Ya just nappin’!” He pointed his toothpick repremendingly at her.

She flashed him a grin. ‘Sorry, Sterlas. I thought more people might be passing through,’ she signed, shrugging. ‘Used to be a good spot for traders.’

“Like I said. Half a decade ago, maybe. Ain’t a good spot for shit now, ‘cept maybe burs,” Sterlas grumbled, reaching up to the thick plate of fur around his neck to pick some flecks of grass out of it.

Casil glanced to the surrounding landscape again, her own fingers moving to absent-mindedly pick at the plants surrounding her. Five years ago this place had been absolutely bustling. They hadn’t seen a single soul now. The war had brought in more money in the past five years than Casil ever had in the rest of her life combined, but it really had made her income… boring. Repetitive. Same old same old. She slowly pouted, blowing a strand of grey hair out of her face as she slouched. She missed the variability of the old days.

Overhead, the goshawk let out a cry, breaking the silence that had fallen over the field. Sterlas grunted and flopped back, continuing to pick at his rotting teeth with the gentle clicking of enamel and bone. “Well, if we’re gonna just waste our sweet time out here, I’m gonna catch some shut eye,” the man yawned, stretching.

Casil glanced at him, before scooting over to grab the spyglass out of his lap. She brought it up to her eyes, taking her turn to scan the horizon. The breeze picked up, making her shudder. Winter was rolling in. The sun hung overhead for now, but heavy rain clouds loomed on the horizon. The ominous spires of Bleak Falls Barrow lay silhouetted against the dark grey, one of many reminders of times long past. Soon, the fields of Whiterun would be soggy with mud, and then covered in snow. Normally, days like this where there was a break in the rain were ideal times for people to be out traveling, coming and going from the city with their goods before bad weather made it increasingly difficult to travel. Casil supposed the damn civil war had been to blame for the severe lack of travelers. The roads were dangerous to travel these days.

Casil swept the spyglass across the hills, before pausing. She moved it back, narrowing her eye as she focused in on movement. People. Casil let out a sigh of relief. Bandits too, from the looks of it. Which, admittedly, she couldn’t see much at this distance, but bandits tended to be easy to spot from their ragged attire. It certainly was no merchant caravan. No horses, no carts. Just people on foot. Traveling light from what she could see.

It was better than nothing. And certainly, it was nobody that was going to be missed. Casil lowered the spyglass, reaching over to give Sterlas’s arm a rough shake. He moved to swat her hand, earning him a dirty look from Casil before he grunted and sat up.

“What?” he grunted. “I was startin’ to doze.”

Casil held the spyglass out to him, letting him take it and bring it up to his eye before she leaned in to point him in the direction she’d been looking. He hummed, squinting and focusing the glass until he could pinpoint what Casil had seen. The redguard gave a low chuckle.

“Well, I guess it ain’t nothin’. What we got there…. Three… four bandits? Armed? Can’t imagine they ain’t,” he said, holding the toothpick between his teeth. He pulled the glass away, glancing to Casil. “What we goin’ for?”

‘Anything. All of it,’ Casil signed, moving to pull the burlap sacks in to hide them behind the rock.

Sterlas moved to help her, before settling down behind the rock. He tucked the spyglass into Casil’s bag, making sure it was safe with the bags. Once Casil was sure that everything was tucked away, she got up, glancing to where their victims were before casually making her way down to the road. It was time to be bait. She kicked over a log and plopped herself down on it, brushing the hem of her robe off before pretending to just be sitting and waiting for… something. Which wasn’t untrue, but it didn’t matter. All she needed was to look like a tiny, 4’10” bosmer woman alone on the road. She hated it, but a disappointing number of bandits fell for it.

 

 

Casil forgot how much the anticipation for what should only take 20 minutes felt like after spending hours waiting for absolutely _anything._ By the time the bandits had walked within earshot, Casil was about ready to just jump up and attack them. Sterlas looked like he was about in the same boat, given that she could make out the top of the redguard’s head peering around the rocks. She just hoped he didn’t blow their cover.

Four men, like they had counted initially. Two nords, a argonian, and an dunmer. Casil glanced at them, pretending to be timid and uneasy from where she sat on the log. The dunmer was the only one not wearing mis-matching leather armor, nor did he carry any visible weapon. A mage, probably. One of the nords and the argonian carried short swords at their side, and the other nord had a beaten-to-shit battle ax strapped to his back.

The battle ax wielding nord, who Casil took to be their leader, flashed Casil a disgusting smile. “Well, lookie here. Whatcha pretty little thing like you doing out here alone?” He purred, putting his hands on his hips as he approached Casil.

Casil had to swallow down a look of disgust, throwing a bashful look to the side instead. She said nothing, keeping her eyes to the ground. She could see a dark shadow move from behind the rocks, slipping to move behind the group of bandits as they moved to stand in a half-circle in front of her. She shrunk back, honestly uncomfortable with the crowd of men.

“Hey, did you hear him? He’s talking to you. Are you just going to be rude and not reply?” The argonian hissed, folding his arms as he leered down at Casil.

Casil looked up at them, narrowing her eyes a bit as the sun slanted into her eyes. It was extra work to do it like this, but it meant less damage sometimes. She didn’t shift her gaze to the dark mass that had moved right behind the men with surprising silence.

The leader gave her a scowl. “Are you not-”

His voice was cut off by a giant claw slamming into his side, ploughing him into the argonian before sending both of of them to the ground. The dunmer and nord jerked to turn, and Casil wasted no time in reaching out to grab the nord’s wrist. There was a sickly green glow around Casil’s hand before it faded into the nord’s skin, his immediate veins glowing for a brief moment before the nord stiffly fell to the ground with a look of shock. The dunmer jerked back, electricity forming around his hands in panic between his companion’s paralysis and… the werewolf taking out the other two.

The dark brown werewolf violently shook his head back and forth, the nord screaming as his arm was ripped from its socket. The argonian was trying to get up, struggling to reach for his sword. The werewolf’s yellow eyes locked on the lizard, letting go of the nord’s arm before barreling into the argonian instead. The beastfolk let out a strangled cry as the werewolf’s fangs found his neck, tearing out his jugular with one swift movement. There was a spray of blood as the werewolf slammed the argonian to the ground, tail wagging as he dug into the argonian’s body.

The dunmer threw a bolt of lightning at Casil, trying to get away from the chaos as quickly as he could. Casil threw her hands up, pushing her magicka forward into a barrier. The lightning bounced into it, fizzling out harmlessly before Casil returned the attack with a ball of fire. Unlike Casil, the dunmer didn’t block the attack with a mage shield, but the fire did little to him.

“Damn it!” He hissed, almost tripping over his robes. He looked back over his shoulder, trying to see if there was somewhere to run to. The field was open, but Casil was starting to step towards him, and the werewolf had turned to finish off his leader. The dunmer cursed sharply, before turning and booking it.

Casil cursed internally. The werewolf noticed the man running, ears perking up before he snapped his head up. The nord under his giant claws gurgled weakly, not quite dead yet, but he’d lost the monster’s attention. Casil didn’t even bother to try to tell the thing not to chase after him. He wouldn’t see it, and he wouldn’t listen. She sighed, stopping as the werewolf took off after the poor dunmer. He knocked the man to the ground, tail wagging in excitement as he moved rip into the elf. Casil ignored the man’s screams, turning back to the others. The argonian was dead, one nord was paralyzed, and the other was… not quite dead yet. Casil walked over to the dying man, putting her hands on her hips.

He wasn’t quite as lucky as his companion. Sterlas had been sloppy. The werewolf had bit into his shoulder, his lower teeth catching his throat in the process. One arm was twisted backwards and lay too far down, ripped out of its socket. The other appeared to be broken. The man looked up at Casil in pain and fear, blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth. Casil narrowed her eyes. That was what he got. She reached into the sash around her waist, producing a knife. The panic in the man’s eyes only intensified, and his body gave a weak twitch in a hopeless attempt to get away. Casil didn’t hesitate to put the man out of his misery with one swift movement, before turning to the other nord. He hadn’t moved from where he’d collapsed after she’d paralyzed him, still staring up at the sky with a look of shock. Casil nudged his body with her foot, watching him tilt back and forth like a mannequin. Still paralyzed. She crouched down and dragged the blade across his neck, watching the man’s body until it went limp. Well, at least one of the bodies was unharmed. The other three… She glanced back over her shoulder to where Sterlas was. He was still hunched over the dunmer, and the sound of crunching bones was more than audible from across the field. One was better than none, she supposed.

Casil sighed, sticking the knife into some soft skin in the nord’s arm to hold it before she wipe her hands off on her robe. Casil stuck her fingers in her mouth, letting out a loud whistle to get Sterlas’s attention. The werewolf’s ears perked up, lifting his head to look over towards Casil. His muzzle was covered in viscera, and a strand of what Casil could only guess was intestine hung from his maw. She rolled her eyes, making a motion for him to come back over. Sterlas’s tail wagged before he picked up the corpse, dragging it over to where Casil was starting to drag the other three off the path.

One whole body, and three… pieces of bodies. Casil sighed as she worked, her hands moving skillfully as she cut flesh from bones. That was one of the downsides of Sterlas. She glanced over at the beast. The werewolf was laying down in the grass next to her, gnawing on one of the arms that had broken when he’d attacked.

‘You can’t hit so hard, Sterlas,’ Casil said, taking a moment from her work to sign to the werewolf. He was looking at her, but she doubted he understood or caught any of it.

His ears perked up, pausing in his chewing. He lifted his head, before going back to munching on the humerus.

She wiped her hand on a dirty rag before picking her knife again, working on shearing off another slab of arm muscle. It was a few more bones for her collection. She tossed the piece of flesh to a gathering of nearby ravens, letting the birds fight over the scrap. More birds circled overhead. Casil watched their shadows pass overhead as she tossed the mostly-clean bone into one of the burlap sacks. Good. The more scavengers, the better. It would scatter what she didn’t take. She didn’t need people worrying about a murderer waiting on these roads.

The burlap sacks had been organized into three piles - remains, meltables, and interesting. The remains sack had been double bagged to avoid leaks, and was now half full of mostly-cleaned humanoid remains. She wouldn’t bother cleaning them so much if it didn’t mean the bag would weigh significantly more, and Divines knew there was only so much her and Sterlas could carry. Maehaur, her horse, was waiting in the Whiterun stables with her cart, but he wasn’t something she could bring out to the wilderness and leave alone without asking for trouble on some end. She needed to make sure they could carry their loot to another location before she could pick it up with the cart.

And it was always the meltable bag that usually weighed the most. Today, it didn’t have much in it. Casil stripped off a layer of leather armor in disgust, tossing it to the side. Useless, and ruined. With that much blood, it would stiffen and warp. There was nothing that could be salvaged from it. And with no metal armor, the bag would weigh significantly less. The head of the battle ax and what few metal decorations had lined the wood shaft had been thrown in already along with both of the short swords and any daggers the men had on them, and now most of what was left to take from the men was whatever was hidden in their clothing. Certainly, it was all going to be less than what she made from the war.

That was the trade off, she supposed. Bodies, or metal. The civil war gave her lots of metal. Swords, armor, supplies. Casil followed the battles as closely as the ravens did, waiting to scavenge on what the birds and the foxes had little use for. And the supply was high. Of course, Casil had no doubt she wasn’t helping- when half of your armor and swords disappeared each battle, you were going to have to ask for more. And Casil happily provided bars of precious metal to those smiths needing to fill their quotas. They made the swords, the swords found the hands of soldiers, the soldiers fell in battle, Casil collected their weapons, melted them down, and sold them off again. Rinse, cycle, repeat.

And it was boring, and there was little surprise, and there was absolutely no way Casil was going to get away with stealing any amount of the bodies as well. The metal already weighed too much and was, frankly, too ludicrous to pass up for a corpse. Her need for human bones wasn’t that dire. But she had missed her work.

With the last limb cleaned, she straightened herself out and picked up one of the femurs that had been broken, tossing it to one of the wolves that loitered at the edge of the hill. The thin animal quickly grabbed it, trying to scamper away with it before another wolf noticed. A few ravens croaked before following after the wolf, trying to grab a piece of dangling flesh from the leg. Casil wiped her hands off, watching the wolf run away. The scavengers would scatter the remains of the bodies, and she doubted she would hear much of it. Nothing outside of the usual. These bandits had little on them, even as far as bandits went. The sack of interesting items had not changed in visible size- only a few interesting objects to note, like a half-decently crafted bone comb, a handful of small gemstones, and a book or two she hadn’t added to her collection yet. The jewelry they had was just as sparse, but Casil supposed that they at least had a decent amount of metal on them for being piss-poor bandits.

She clicked her tongue at Sterlas, catching his attention again. He snorted, trying to ignore the ravens that kept edging closer and closer to him to steal a bite of his food or to pull on his tail. She patted her side, motioning that it was time to pack up and go. The werewolf huffed, getting up as Casil sealed the bags. The sack with the body parts was the most important to seal well. The last thing she needed was for people to get suspicious of a bag that smelled of blood or rot. Both bags had been specially waterproofed with wax to help keep blood or decay from seeping out, and Casil did everything she could from drawing attention to herself for any bag that could get her into serious trouble. Being caught for smuggling and stealing metal right now was a far, far lighter sentence then being found with fresh human remains.

Sterlas picked up the two heavier bags, throwing them on his back. Now, it was just a matter of getting to the forest line where Sterlas could wait for Casil to return with Maehaur and the cart. And, hopefully, where he could turn back into a human after a few hours. Being caught with a werewolf was probably a nasty crime as well. Not that Casil knew for certain.

 

 

The ride home was quiet. The stables of Whiterun were dismally empty when Casil arrived to pick up her horse, and the road down to the southern side of Lake Ilinalta was equally quiet. They passed by a single farmer and his horse during the entire trip, which was fine with Casil.

Casil had holed herself up in a cabin on the edge of the lake, a good few miles from the next nearest home. Few people passed by, and her house was pushed far enough off of the main road that wandering eyes were highly unlikely to see what she was up to. The privacy was one of Casil’s favorite things about the home, besides the fact that it was a very roomy and nice cabin that was far outside of her price range.

Casil pulled the cart up to the side of the house, hopping out so she could lead Maehaur to his stables while Sterlas worked on unloading what little they had on their cart. Sterlas picked up the two bags that were intended to go inside, leaving them by the doorway before he went to pick up the last bag. With a face of disgust, Sterlas walked to the back of the house where the apiary sat- or at least, what had _used_ to be a apiary. It had never been a apiary in the time Sterlas had been around Casil, and based off of the state of the structure and the area around it Sterlas had a feeling it hadn’t been used for its intended purpose in a good few decades. Instead of bees, a eternal swarm of flies and yellow jackets buzzed around the black ooze that dripped out of the various openings of the apiary. No matter how long he’d been there, the smell that wafted out of the structure always hit Stelas like a punch to the gut, and once more he found himself fighting back the contents of his stomach. He scrunched his nose, untying the bag before he quickly opened up the top. The various bones slid out of the bag and into the questionable slurry of bones and flesh with a disgusting _plop_ before Sterlas slammed the lid back down, hurrying away to get a deep breath of fresh air with an exaggerated gasp.

Casil had just unlocked the door, in the process of picking up one of the bags to bring inside. She arched her brow at him, pushing the door open with her shoulder.

“Why do ya have to keep it in there?” Sterlas gasped, hands on his knees as he gave Casil a look of scrutiny.

Casil gave him a unimpressed look, before setting the bag back down. ‘Sterlas, you _eat_ that. You have no room to talk,’ she stated, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she walked further inside the entry hall.

“Not like _that!_ I eat it fresh. Just like eatin’ elk,” Sterlas said defensively, picking up the other bag as he followed Casil inside.

Casil didn’t speak again until she’d made it down into the basement. Heaps and piles of material were strewn across the floor, leaving just enough space to walk and navigate over to the forge that resided on the far side of the basement. Casil set down her bag, rustling through it to start sorting what they had found into their designated piles.

Sterlas meandered over after setting his bag down upstairs, picking up the shovel to help get the forge started up. “‘Bout time we melted this all down, eh?” He questioned, glancing back at Casil.

Casil glanced up as she pulled one of the short swords out, nodding. Her attention turned back to the blade to examine it. Her brow arched after a moment, turning it in her hands. Sterlas looked over his shoulder.

“What is it?” He questioned.

‘Imperial blade. Whiterun made. Probably my metal. Good to see i’m not the only one out raiding the fields,’ Casil signed after tossing the blade into a pile of iron.

Sterlas snorted, shoveling another pile of coal into the furnace before tossing the shovel back against the wall. He walked over, unhooking his leather armor to hang it up before catching a stool with his foot so he could sit down. “Well, it’s gonna go right back to Whiterun then,” he laughed, slapping his legs.

Casil silently chuckled, crumpling up the burlap bag once it was empty before tossing it to the side. She nonchalantly pulled off her shall and her robe, tossing them to the side as well before walking over to grab her work clothing. Sterlas stretched, used to it by now.

“I can’t believe this shit is still going. It’s been over five years and we ain’t any closer to a winner,” he groaned.

Casil glanced at him. ‘Are you complaining?’ she signed after pulling her pants up.

Sterlas chuckled. “No more than I imagine ya are. Borin’, but it ain’t turnin’ a bad profit. Sure beats shit i’d been doin’ before all of this,” he said, brushing his dreadlocks back.

Casil nodded in agreement. ‘Doesn’t matter who wins anyways. Both sides are garbage,’ she signed, finishing up her work outfit by slapping her apron and gloves on before going to check on the smelter.

Sterlas let out a hum. “Though, that begs the question. What _will_ ya do when it ends?”

Casil shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Haven’t thought about it too much. Not that worried about it.’

A peaceful silence fell on the room, broken by the crackling of fire and the sound of metal being shifted. Sterlas leaned back on the stool, reaching up to fiddle with the tassels of some bag Casil had hanging from the wall. “Don’t get me wrong, we ain’t hurtin’ right now, but this gold ain’t gonna last forever if the war comes to an end.”

Casil looked up from the pile of metal, a frown on her face. ‘I’ll worry about it when the time comes. The war doesn’t seem to be close to ending any time soon.’

Sterlas watched as Casil carried a armful of daggers to her work bench next to the smelter. She started to pick the leather and wood off of the hilt, tossing the nonmetal material into a crate at her feet. He slowly teetered back and forth for a few minutes, watching her work before he rubbed his face. “Divines, I wish I could give as few fucks as ya do,” Sterlas finally chuckled, shaking his head.

Casil couldn’t help but smile a bit, giving Sterlas her noncommittal shrug. ‘Never have had a reason to,’ she replied, before tossing the metal of the dagger into the smelter.


	2. II - Bo [Arrival]

Whiterun was, by no means, a bad city by Casil’s standards. Casil wasn’t a big fan of the walls - it made her feel claustrophobic - but she couldn’t blame them. Most commonfolk couldn’t defend themselves against the dangers of the wild. The walls kept them safe- or at least, they created the illusion of safety. That's what mattered. But Whiterun wasn’t a part of the war, and it wasn’t too crowded, and better yet it accepted her in for business. 

The only problem was that it, like many cities, did not allow horses inside. And in Casil’s case, that meant she had to haul her goods by hand- and that was never a quick task. Even with Sterlas now here to help, it took several trips and reminded Casil why she hated physical labor so much.

Casil slouched against the counter as she set down the last sack of iron bars at the foot of Adrianne, the owner of the smithy shop Warmaiden’s. 

Adrianne checked the bag briefly, before closing it up and motioning to her husband to help Sterlas move it into the back. “How you manage to always bring this much in will never cease to amaze me,” Adrianne said, scratching the bag’s contents into her records. “But I can’t complain. Idolaf just asked for another large order, and I was getting worried that I wouldn’t have enough supplies,” she said with a sigh.

Casil rested her head on her arms, watching Adrianne move to produce the safebox from under the counter. She unlocked it before pulling out a coin purse, starting to count out Casil’s pay. ‘As long as there’s demand, i’ll have supply,’ Casil wrote on her pad of paper, turning it and pushing it towards Adrianne so she could read it. 

The woman glanced up and scanned what was written, nodding. “With how the war has been going, it may be for a good while longer.” She sighed heavily, coins clinking in her hands before she moved another stack of 50 to the side. “Divines know this war has gone on for long enough.”

‘I imagine if i’ve made this much off of just selling you metal, you must have made quite the coin making weapons,’ Casil wrote, never lifting her head from her arm.

Adrianne shook her head. “I have, but I would prefer not to make my money off of battles between my own people.”

Casil pursed her lips, but didn’t push the subject. She simply nodded, pulling the pad of paper back.

After a moment, Adrianne slid the coins into the bag and dropped it down in front of Casil with a heavy thud and rattle of coins. “As always, I must thank you for doing business with me,” Adrianne said.

Casil reached out and picked up the bag, slipping it onto a loop on her belt. She nodded to simply return the motion, glancing over the counter as Sterlas came back from moving things. She motioned for him to follow, before stepping outside.

Sterlas followed behind her, closing the door behind him after saying his goodbyes. “Usual price?” Sterlas asked, putting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the street.

Casil nodded, replacing her pad of paper with a thick-bound tome of leather. She unbound it and flipped it to one of the last pages, scanning her list of errands she needed to run once she was paid. ‘How much do you want?’ She scribbled on one of the page edges, pointing for Sterlas to read it.

Sterlas snorted. “Enough fer a fun night or two. Don’t give me more or ya know i’ll just waste it.”

Casil snorted, tucking the journal under one arm. She fumbled with her usual coin pouch, digging out some coins before slapping them in Sterlas’s waiting hand. She waved a hand at him with a playful smile, shaking her head as Sterlas almost pranced off to do Divines knew what. Drink and get laid, no doubt.

Well, at least he’s having fun. It was probably more fun than she’d be having. She looked at the list again. New winter coat, some potion supplies, maybe a new book or two if any of the stores had something new… Casil sighed. It was something. Maybe she’d spend some time in the market square and listen for gossip. People’s gossip sometimes gave her the best locations for loot. Supposed locations for the next battle, weird things people found out in the country side, maybe a new nordic barrow some unfortunate farmer dug into on accident that was still ripe with relics for her to raid. That would be nice. A nordic ruin at least would bring her in some extra things outside of the war.

 

 

By the time evening had rolled around, Casil hadn’t heard anything of interest. Nothing. Paranoia and unease thanks to the war, but nothing that told her where people might be fighting, or where she might make a few extra coins.

Casil retired to the Bannered Mare before the sun finished going down, rubbing her face. She’d gotten her errands done at least. As she pushed the doors open, she was met with the loud clamour of the evening crowd around the firepit in the middle of the room. Casil grimaced at the cacophony, skirting the edge of the main room so she could reach the door of her room. She scanned the crowd to see if Sterlas was among it, but it didn’t appear so. Out somewhere else again. When Casil had first managed to get Sterlas into the city as a redguard, he had spent a lot of evenings among the Bannered Mare crowd, but as time went on he went there less and less. Where he was going off to, Casil had no idea, but she just hoped the werewolf was having a good time.

The bosmer slipped into her room, quickly closing the door in hopes that it would break some of the noise from outside. Not as much as she wanted to. She sighed, walking over to the table in the corner of the room to light the candle with a simple wave of her hand before sitting down. 

Casil wasn’t a people person- she never had been. Sterlas had been a recent addition to her life, and Sterlas as a talking  _ person  _ had been even more recent. Having someone with their own agenda who wasn’t reliant on her, but who still lived with her was still something she was adjusting to. Part of her was relieved when Sterlas was off doing his own thing and leaving her alone, but at the same time she fretted over what he was off doing. Would he be back? Did she have to wait for him? 

Casil plopped her journal down. She flipped to a small pouch on the back, producing a handful of well-worn papers. She smoothed them out, arranging them artfully on the table before flipping to one of the many dogeared pages in her journal. Rough charts and tables lined the loose-leaf pages, noting ancient nordic ruins and symbols and their possible translations and meaning. Many pages had been cobbled together from books she’d read and other’s research she’d gathered over the years, but good chunks of it was her own research. Whenever she wandered into a new barrow or nordic rune, Casil always made sure to record the writing she found within, and had made it a hobby of trying to understand what was written upon them. She had a few walls almost fully decoded, but many more piled up in wait for translation.

It at least would last her until the worst of the buzz outside had died down and she could try to catch some sleep. Casil slouched down in her chair, tapping her pencil on the last set of symbols she’d been working on. Maybe tomorrow would bring something new.

 

 

 

Casil sat on the porch of the Bannered Mare, scratching her chin slowly as she stared out at the landscape that was just visible over the top of the city walls from their location. Sterlas sat next to her, slowly sipping a mug of warm mead in the early hours as he both tried to wake up and process the information he’d brought Casil that morning. 

_ Something new  _ would have been a understatement. 

Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion, the renegade king of the nords had been captured by the Legion. Out of the blue, a end to the war suddenly seemed to be in sight.

Casil exhaled slowly, creating a cloud of condensation that drifted up lazily into the rafters above. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, propping her chin up with her hands as she knitted her brow in deep thought. Rain came down in sheets just beyond the end of the porch cover, slanting sideways with the wind. It drummed against the boards above and dripped into a left over glass on the ground from one of many leaks above. 

Well, if this was the end of the war, Casil was glad she had sold all of her stock a mere 24 hours prior. Unfortunate for Adrianne, but it was not her problem. Maybe the Legion would have to pay for the order anyways. 

Sterlas took a sip of his mead, watching a unfortunate townsfolk dart through the downpour with a basket over their head. “So,” he said, clearing his throat before he slouched back in his chair. “Ulfric Stormcloak has been captured. I didn’t ever think i’d hear that,” Sterlas said, letting out a heavy exhale. 

Casil shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. Neither did she. And certainly, not  _ today.  _ She reached up to rub her temples, scrunching her brow. She made no response though, and made no motion that she planned to.

“Ya could be a bandit,” Sterlas suggested, glancing at her.

Casil threw him a deadpan look.

Sterlas shrugged. “Think. Ya could live in a cave. With a bunch of other folk. In old pelts. With fleas. Waitin’ on the side of the road for people like we just had been.”

Casil rolled her eyes, squinting out at a nondescript point in the distance as Sterlas chuckled.

The werewolf took another sip of his mead. “Fightin’ should still continue for a bit longer. Ain’t no way the Stormcloaks are just gonna give up, even with Ulfric captured. That gives us a bit more time,” he offered in honest this time.

Casil nodded, pursing her lips. That was… something. Divines knew they weren’t hurting right now, but the money would only last so long. Silence fell again, and Sterlas finally sighed and rubbed his face.

“Do you have  _ any  _ plan, Casil?” Sterlas asked, digging into his pocket for his toothpick. 

Casil rubbed her face, before pulling her journal out. She flipped through a few pages, a look of desolation on her face. She pulled a map out from between the pages, looking it over before turning it to Sterlas. The map was crinkled and thoroughly beaten, with tons of pencil smudges and notes that made the remaining locations on the map almost illegible. Sterlas took it from her, squinting as he tried to make out what in Oblivion the map was even conveying. He managed to find the key that had been almost overrun by other text crammed into one of the corners. Ah. Locations of nordic and dwemer ruins. Places Casil seemed to guess could hold things of value.

Sterlas let out a low hum, picking at his teeth with the bone. “How long do ya think all this will last, if they have  _ anything  _ in them?” He questioned.

Casil shrugged, not looking to eager about it herself. ‘An amount,’ she signed, shrugging half-heartedly. It was better than  _ nothing _ she supposed. ‘Maybe people will start traveling the roads again if the war is over. I don’t know.’

Sterlas gave that a look of consideration. 

‘War isn’t over yet though,’ Casil signed, snatching the map back out of Sterlas’s hands. She folded it up and returned it to its place in her journal, standing up.

Sterlas leaned back in his chair, picking a piece of what Casil could only assume was human flesh out from between his mangled teeth. “Ya really think they’re gonna continue?”

‘Until it’s over, i’m going to continue as I have.’ With that, Casil turned to walk back inside.

Sterlas sighed, looking back out to the street. A few people huddled in the doorway of their home, just outside of the range of rain. “Damn woman,” he grumbled, shaking his head. This was going to be the end of him.

 

 

Helgen. Sterlas raised his brow at Casil, having almost spilled his mead in his lap because of how suddenly Casil had jumped at him with an idea.

“He’s being taken to Helgen.” Sterlas sipped his mead. “And ya heard this… where? And by who?” He arched a wooly brow, skeptic.

‘In the market square. A bunch of people were talking about it. It’s probably a rumor, but most people seem to believe it in earnest. It’s  _ something _ , isn’t it?’ Casil signed, her gestures animated. 

“Do ya  _ honestly  _ believe that? Ya think the Imperials would just let that kinda information just float around?” Sterlas asked.

Casil put her hand on her hip, jutting it out to the side.

Sterlas sighed, setting the cup of mead down on the dresser next to the inn bed. “I guess there ain’t no harm in going. Just as long as we ain’t caught in any crossfire.”

Casil flashed a smile, before turning to pack her bags. If this war was going to end, not that she truly wanted to accept that it could, like Oblivion was she going to take advantage of it.

 

 

A fine blanket of snow had already fallen by the time Casil and Sterlas arrived on the outskirts of the small military settlement. Casil thanked the Divines that the sky overhead had at least cleared up, and while more clouds loomed as always on the horizon, it seemed like at least the rest of the day would be clear. 

The looming hills and cliffs that marked the edge of the mountains Skyrim called its southern border made for a great lookout. While plenty of troops patrolled the forests immediately around the edges of Helgen, few strayed far enough out to bother where Casil and Sterlas had set up a temporary camp.

Casil sucked in a sharp breath as she hauled herself up onto another branch of a rather tall pine tree, grimacing at another glob of sap she’d managed to stick her hand in. Down below, Sterlas tended to a small fire, trying to make sure it didn’t produce enough smoke that it might draw the unwanted attention of the soldiers below.

“See anythin’?” Sterlas called up, leaning back on the round of cut log he’d flipped into a makeshift seat. 

Casil hooked her arm around a branch to steady herself, pulling the spyglass up from where it hung around her neck. Not quite. From her perch, she could just see the top of Helgen’s walls, but not over them. She dropped the glass back to her chest, letting the leather strap catch it, before shaking her head down at Sterlas and continuing her ascent up the tree. There was still a good ten or twelve feet of climbing room before the branches grew too flimsy or their cover too thin, so Casil had her fingers crossed that by the time she reached the end of her climbing range she’d have at least  _ some  _ look in on the inside of Helgen. The village wasn’t  _ tiny _ , but the fort side they were on was bound to be where any action was going to happen. Or where Ulfric was to be taken, if any of that information was true.

Casil shambled up a few more branches, causing a cascade of pine needles and snow to rain down on Sterlas below. He grunted and picked up a sack to cover his head, making a face when a patch of snow managed to make it down the back of his neck. Climbing was… not her strong suit, but at least the branches here were close enough together that she could reach them with ease. Once she’d ascended a bit further, she peered out from between the branches, surveying the area below. She could make out the flashes of blue tabards somewhere in the woods below. Stormcloaks. If nothing else,  _ some  _ rebels were here, though she doubted any scrimmish that occured would produce anything beneficial to her. Especially this close to the fort. Casil pouted as she peered through the spyglass once more. Now she could see just over the wall. Soldiers moved from one place to another, and a few important-looking Imperial officials made their way around the edge of the courtyard. There was a executioner's block in the middle, and if nothing else it seemed like  _ someone  _ was going to be put on it. 

“Any better?” Sterlas called up, peering from under his cover.

Casil gripped a branch with both hands, leaning back so he could see her when she nodded. She gave him a thumbs up once she was sure she’d caught his attention, before pulling herself up a few more branches to give Sterlas room.

He made it up the tree in a fraction of the time it’d taken Casil. The redguard plopped himself on the next sturdiest branch below her, hooking a arm around the branch she’d perched on before motioning for her to hand him the spyglass.

‘Someone important is getting executed. There’s Stormcloaks here, and they’re preparing the chopping block,’ Casil signed before he took a look.

“We ain’t gettin’ shit here though if they pick a fight. Like Oblivion we’ll be able to grab anything without being spotted, or that they’d just leave the bodies like that this close,” Sterlas grunted. He pulled the spyglass away from his eye, handing it back to Casil.

Casil wrapped the leather strap around her wrist this time. ‘I know. I’m kind of mad,’ she signed, sighing and leaning on the branch next to her. Movement in the forest line to the south caught her attention and she quickly took a look at it. A carriage. Casil leaned forward, trying to make out who was in the back. Stormcloak soldiers, most of them. A second cart followed, more blue tabards speckled the seats, but one stuck out among them. A nordic man in a huge bear pelt. Casil strained her eyes, trying to make him out better. He seemed to be bound a bit more than the others from what she could see. She’d only heard the man described, but he was looking like a pretty good match for Ulfric himself. She arched a brow. Seems the rumors had been right, unless they were hoping that other soldiers would be as gullible as her. That didn’t seem correct though. Why fake a leader’s death if the man was very much alive to continue his commands?

‘It’s him,’ Casil signed, a look of honest surprise on her face.

“No shit? The king-killer himself?” Sterlas said, snatching the glass from her hand and almost pulling her off the branch in the process of untangling the leather from her wrist.

‘Looks like,’ Casil managed to sign after righting herself.

Sterlas took a look himself as the carriages pulled up to the fort gate. More soldiers gathered along the walls, weapons ready. Casil could see the patches of blue in the wood move, but few Stormcloak soldiers got close. The Imperial soldiers on the walls were ready with bows, and it was more than obvious that they’d expected a last-ditch attempt to free their leader. Rightfully so, Casil thought, on both accounts. It’d been two days since they’d heard the news that Ulfric had been captured, so at least  _ some  _ Stormcloak soldiers should have been able to rally. Casil had no idea how long it’d taken for the news to reach them since the man was really captured, but she would have been disappointed if no Stormcloak had managed to get there in time themselves to save their leader… or if the Imperials hadn’t expected  _ someone  _ to try to free Ulfric.

“Really does look like ‘em, or least what they say he looks like,” Sterlas said. He gave a curious hum. “Wonder how they captured him. Maybe the war really is over.”

Casil didn’t wait for Sterlas to finish looking before snatching the glass back. The carts were pulled into the courtyard before their prisoners were taken off and lined up, Imperial officers pulling out lists and doing Divines knew what paperwork. Casil heard the clink of coin coupled with the bounce of the branch she sat on and looked down.

“Ten gold that ol’ Ulfric finally kicks the bucket,” Sterlas said, leaning back against the tree trunk once he was sure the coins weren’t going to slip off the branch.

Casil gave him a skeptical look, before fishing in her pocket for her own ten gold. ‘Not over,’ she signed once it was set down next to Sterlas’s stack. A big grin crept onto her face before she eagerly returned to watching what was about to unfold.

The Stormcloaks were lined up. A distant noise made everyone, including Casil, pause, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. A man tried to make a break for it, but the archers on the wall were watching the courtyard just as well as the forests around them. A well-placed arrow took the man to the ground, and a few other guards made their way over to collect his body. As Casil expected, Ulfric was first up to the chopping block. And to her disappointment, it did not seem like he had anything up his sleeve. He was shoved down to the ground in front of the disgusting slab of stone, and now that he was closer Casil could clearly make out the cloth gag in his mouth. No tricks, not like he’d done with the king. Nobody had made it in yet from the outside, so unless Ulfric had spies, this was it. The echoing noise of something in the distance caught people’s attention again, and while Casil couldn’t place what was making such a ruckuss, it was hardly of importance right now. The executioner walked up to the block, readying his ax as a priest went to send them off. Someone must have said something, because for a brief moment the priest looked offended, before backing off from the slab. Casil huffed as the executioner raised his ax. Maybe the war was over.

This time, the roar was crystal clear, even to where Casil and Sterlas were hunkered down. The suddenness of the noise made Casil jerk back, causing the coins to clatter off the branch and to the snowy ground below. Despite watching with his naked eyes, Sterlas apparently had been just as narrow sighted and absorbed in what was going on in the courtyard as well, because he similarly hadn’t noticed the gargantuan black shadow that had snuck up on the city.

With great beats of massive black wings, a giant dragon descended from the blue sky, coming to perch on top of the tallest watchtower. People below in the courtyard staggered back in equal surprise, staring dumbfounded up at the beast of legend as it craned its neck to survey the people below. Even from where Casil sat, she could see that its eyes burned a vibrant, hateful red, and for a brief moment the beast turned to look at Ulfric below. The dragon rumbled, its metallic black scales rattling loudly with a low hum that sounded like the rumble of a earthquake before it lifted its head up again. 

Mighty words bellowed from his maw, making the whole world around them shake with such intensity and power. Casil was almost knocked off of the branch at the force, and it was only thanks to Sterlas’s swift movement that she didn’t plummet down to the ground. The winds suddenly picked up, curling and pulling in clouds as the sky turned a angry shade of red Casil had never seen before. A moment later, as the clouds began to spiral above Helgen, fire began to rain down from the heavens.

Sterlas pulled on Casil’s robe, trying to get the woman moving. Casil threw the spyglass around her neck, trying to scramble down the branches as quickly as she could. A few times she slipped, falling a few feet and bashing her legs on the passing branches before catching herself again. Sterlas followed right behind, landing in the snow a second after she did. The two of them hardly had time to pick up their bags before a flaming ball of stone crashed into the tree they had been in, sending splinters of wood and fire exploding out in every direction.

Casil felt the cold snow and dirt below bite into her hands and then into her cheek, knocked forward by the blast. A loud ringing echoed in her ears, and with a grimace Casil tried to push herself back up to her feet. Sterlas grabbed the back of her robes, yanking her to her feet before pushing her forward to keep running.

For a brief moment, Casil dared to look back over her shoulder. Through the smoldering remains of the tree Casil could make out the dark mass of the dragon circling above the city, pillars of fire and smoke billowing out of buildings below. Jets of fire immolated everything in its path as the dragon strafed those below who were unfortunate enough to be in its way. She didn’t waste any more time watching.

A second meteor clipped through the trees, sending shrapnel raining down onto the two as they ran. Casil winced, feeling the sharp sting of wood pelting her back. A few times she staggered, before Sterlas burst into his werewolf form. He reached out and grabbed Casil, throwing her onto his back before bounding through the now burning woods as fast as his four feet would carry him. Casil dug her fingers into his dark brown fur, burying her face into his back to avoid the sting of smoke and embers. 

The two took shelter under a cliff overhang, where a rocky outcropping jutted out far enough to block the occasional ball of fire that whistled down from above. Sterlas blocked Casil into the interior, using his giant form to help shield her from whatever might come in from beyond their tiny amount of protection. Casil pulled her hood up to try to shield as much of her head from the fire and ash, eyes closed tight as she listened to the rain of destruction outside. The smoke stung her eyes and burned her lungs, and soon it no longer smelled just of burning wood, but of burning flesh.

Neither was sure how long they waited there. The fire continued to rain down from above, before finally petering out to leave the forest to simply burn on its own. Shortly after, the relieving sound of rain drowned out the snap and pop of burning pine trees and smothered the acidic smell of smoke, dousing the flames before Casil and Sterlas were choked out. Even then, they remained under the rock for a bit longer, waiting to be certain that the dragon was gone. The world outside had become quiet. The rain fell in a steady rhythm, and not even the singing of birds broke it. The distant sound of screams had gone, and Casil hadn’t heard nor seen the beast since the fire had stopped.

At least, Casil and Sterlas emerged from their hiding place. The ground was dirtied with ash and mud, all the snow melted away between the fire and the rain. Many of the trees had been reduced to tall black sticks, some obliterated into jagged spires from where they’d been destroyed by meteors. Both companions kept their eyes on the darkening sky, worried about what might be lurking up there. As they reached the edge of the hill they had been on, they could finally see the damage that had been dealt to Helgen.

The city lay in ruins. Smoke still coiled out of the rubble, a few more sheltered fires still smoldering despite the rain. Most of the towers and walls had been knocked over, and Casil couldn’t see a single house that remained fully intact. Nor could she see anyone moving in or near the village. The dragon seemed to be gone- there was no sign that the beast was still lingering in the ruins, but Casil was still nervous. She’d never seen this level of destruction before. Few trees even remained standing in the surrounding woods, and none had survived the onslaught of fire. 

Sterlas let out a high-pitched whine, his ears twitching as he looked to Casil to see what she wanted to do.

Casil pulled her robe around herself tightly, wiping charcoal off her cheek. She checked the sky again, eyes scanning the mountain tops that had yet to be covered by the incoming clouds. Night would be here soon. That being said, Casil didn’t want to make a fire, or do anything that could alert that  _ thing  _ to where they were. Was anyone even alive down there? She bit her lower lip.

 

Morbid curiosity got the better of her.

 

They didn’t even have to make it around to the gate to get in. Part of the wall had been so badly destroyed that it took little effort to clamber over what remained of it, though Casil was cautious about the approach. Not a single sign of life stirred within the walls. No guards. No civilians. No scavengers even dared approach. The inside of the courtyard that they’d been watching only hours before was a maze of debris and corpses. Even Casil’s nose curled at the smell of burned flesh. She couldn’t make out the difference between Imperial and Stormcloak. All the bodies had been so badly burned there that the metal of their armor even had melted and warped. 

Sterlas cautiously climbed over what remained of some sort of wood structure, his claws scraping against the charred beams. The bodies of the horses that had drawn the carriages lay not far from the blackened piles of wood that must have been the carts themselves. One of the horses was missing the entire upper half of its body, and Casil could only assume the dragon had taken a bite out of it.

The chopping block remained where it had been, but no body lay on top or next to it. Casil eyed the other charred corpses scattered around the courtyard. Were any of these Ulfric’s? Had anyone even got away? There was no way of telling. Well, perhaps there was if Casil had wanted to take time with necromancy, but she wasn’t sure if it was worth it by any measurement. 

Helgen was quiet. If anyone had survived, they’d fled. The two hunkered down in the most stable looking of the remaining buildings. Casil didn’t want to stay there, but she wasn’t sure moving on the road was any better. And traveling at night meant they wouldn’t ever see the beast coming, if it did travel at night. Did it? Who knew. It was a dragon. A beast of legend that had either gone extinct or never really existed as far as Casil knew. Nobody had seen a living dragon in hundreds, no,  _ thousands  _ of years.

But that was what that thing was. Sterlas agreed. They’d both just witnessed a dragon laying siege to Helgen. 

The two sat in silence for the remainder of the night. They took turns keeping watch, but neither of them slept well. Every small noise put them on guard, and even though nothing more than wolves and foxes ever showed up to inspect the rubble Casil was certain that each one of them could have been the dragon again. By the time the sun broke the dreary grey horizon they were exhausted, but it was time to try to get home. Like hell they were staying in the shell of Helgen any longer.

 

 

The trip home was taxing. Paranoia didn’t settle with the sun up, and both kept looking up to the sky expecting to see the shadow of a giant beast drifting overhead. Neither wanted to discuss what had happened when they returned home either. 

Casil mustered up what little energy she had left to knit together a few skeletons. Three already wandered the house at all times, keeping guard or doing chores even when Casil was gone, but now she was worried. She scattered her new creations into the woods around the cabin, sending them to keep watch for her while she slept. There wasn’t anything a simple skeleton could do beyond warn her, but having restless eyes on the sky made her feel a little bit better. Sterlas wasn’t going to complain. He wasn’t a fan of Casil’s necromantic constructs, but for once he couldn’t disagree with their creation. At least it would help them both get some much-need rest.


	3. III - Ofan [To Give]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday, I will have a beta reader. Until then, I'm so sorry for typos!

“You look like shit, Casil.”

Casil rubbed her face, exhaling slowly. She  _ felt  _ like shit. She slouched in her seat, leaning forward to rest her forehead against her hand as she propped her elbow on the table. For a second, she contemplated on a response, before deciding to just made a vulgar gesture to Sterlas instead.

He chuckled, leaning back in the chair across the table. He sure as fuck didn’t look any better, and Casil could tell the chuckle was somewhat forced. Tensions were still high.

Casil rubbed her eye, jabbing at a half-eaten pile of eggs with a fork. They needed to talk about what they’d seen, but neither of them had found the stomach to yet. Finally, Casil let out a sigh of resignation and let the fork fall with a clatter onto the edge of the plate. She raised her hands, and for a long moment they hung there unmoving. Casil finally gave up, letting them hit the table before she leaned over and grabbed one of the many pads of paper that scattered the remainder of the table. ‘Dragon,’ she wrote simply, turning the paper to Sterlas. She made the hand sign that accompanied it, one she only vaguely remembered from her childhood. One she only knew when her father was reading her stories, and she’d eagerly asked him what it was so she could talk about it.

Sterlas sighed, watching the motion as he tapped the pad of paper with his index finger. “Yeah,” he finally said, reaching up with his other hand to scratch at his long beard while as he settled back into his own chair. “Yeah, that’s… what it was, huh.”

Casil nodded, looking down at the word. A dragon. A real, breathing dragon. Had it just drifted by while they were out, she might have questioned it and assumed she’d been seeing things, or perhaps some mage had gotten quite good at conjuring illusions. It would have been quite the distraction too if the intention was to free Ulfric. But that thing had been no illusion. Mages, especially several mages, could get fancy with their illusions and spells. But the raw power and movement of the dragon they saw could not have been a illusion. That thing had been real- far too real. Helgen was proof. Stormcloak and Imperial had died to the monster’s fire. This was no fancy trick. Casil wasn’t even sure Ulfric had made it out either.

“Think it’s just the one?” Sterlas asked, reaching across the table with his fork to steal a bite of egg from Casil’s plate.

She gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘How would I know? I hope so. One is too many,’ she signed, finally leaning back.

Sterlas shoved the egg in his mouth, taking the second it took to chew and swallow it to consider his next words. “So, what do we do?” He finally groaned. “If there’s a dragon, we ain’t gonna just sit out in the open anymore. Who knows what is goin’ to happen with the war too. Ain’t gonna look good for either side, havin’ a whole town like that just go up in flames. And that ain’t includin’ what even happened to Ulfric.”

Casil rubbed one of her temples, squinting at the table for a moment. A skeleton came over, collecting Sterlas’s empty dish. The werewolf snagged Casil’s before the skeleton could take it, shoveling the rest of the food into his mouth before handing it over to the patient servent. Casil watched as the skeleton wandered silently back into the kitchen from whence it came, twisting her mouth in thought.

_ He’s here. _

The words echoed from the nightmares that haunted her just hours before.

‘We’re going to Whiterun,’ she signed without even looking to Sterlas.

He almost spat out a swig of cide, having only just caught the motion. “Come again?” Sterlas choked, scrunching his brow as he pounded his chest to get the cider he’d inhaled out of the wrong tube.

‘We’re going to Whiterun,’ she signed again, pushing her seat back before getting to her feet. She ignored Sterlas’s baffled look, moving to re-pack her bag.

“ _ Why? _ ” He asked. “Ya  _ really  _ want to go back out there right now?” 

Casil shook her head. No, she didn’t. She  _ really _ didn’t. What she wanted to do was hole up inside her little cabin hidden in the woods, paranoidly watching the sky while she dug a tunnel in her basement to hide in at the first sign of a dragon attack. That wasn’t what she was  _ going  _ to do though. ‘The dragon might hit there next,’ she signed reluctantly. She looked at one of the maps stretched out on the table. By technicality, Riverwood or Falkreath were the next closest settlements, unless the dragon decided to go all the way up the mountains and end up in Ivarstead. Either way, Casil was going to be frank: she didn’t care about any of those locations. Falkreath, despite being the closest city to her home, had kicked her out sometime back- albeit at this stage, she couldn’t remember  _ how  _ far back. But the point still stood- Falkreath and her didn’t have a great history, and she was fine with pretending it didn’t exist. Riverwood and Ivarstead just were places she rarely visited- neither had much in them for her to be interested in, so if a dragon decided to reduce them to a pile of smoldering ash, it wouldn’t be much of a loss for Casil. 

Whiterun, on the other hand…

Casil slung her bag on her shoulder with a drawn out sigh. Casil liked Whiterun well enough, and it would be a shame if something were to happen. And a ding to her wallet. Who knew: maybe there’d be a demand for metal to make dragon-slaying weapons now. ‘Would you really want to see Whiterun burned down?’ Casil asked.

Sterlas grunted. “No, but it ain’t like we’ve bothered to help ‘em with stuff before. Ya remember what we were doin’ a week back over there?” He asked.

‘Getting metal?’ Casil signed.

“Murdering people,” Sterlas corrected. “Casil, it ain’t like we’re good citizens or anythin’, and I ain’t sure I want to go stretch myself out on a silver platter for a dragon cuz we feel like being good now.”

Casil stopped in the doorway between the dining room and the entry hall. ‘Then i’m going,’ she signed, brow furrowed. Her hands almost stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting him to be truly against her plan. She still wasn’t used to the idea of things not just doing as she asked. Sterlas’s free will was… jarring.

Sterlas sighed, watching her as she walked to the front door. Stubborn, as always. It was one of the things he liked about her, but like hell was it going to kick her in the ass one of these days. Sterlas slammed back the last of his cider before hopping out of his chair, grabbing his things with a slew of curses.

Casil waited by the door, trying to suppress a smile. Well, his resistance didn’t last long. Sterlas never seemed to trust her to do things on her own, which was strange given how long she’d gotten along fine without someone else. But it worked. She didn’t want to go to Whiterun on her own anyways- not with a dragon on the loose.

 

 

Traveling on horseback was much, much faster than on foot, but neither Casil nor Sterlas figured that taking a horse was a good idea. It made them too easy to spot, and made it too hard to hide. They still couldn’t keep their eyes off of the sky, nervously looking for the first sign of danger. A swift two day’s travel took them to the hill that overlooked Whiterun by the mid afternoon of the second day. To Casil’s relief, Whiterun still waited for them in the valley below, not a stone out of place. Each step closer to the city had Casil expecting to see plumes of smoke rising up into the gloomy sky, and even when they were more than close enough that they’d have seen it if there had been any Casil refused to put aside the possibility that Whiterun simply wouldn’t be there.

Sterlas paused as the crested the hill, putting his hands on his hips as he let out a sigh of relief. A cloud of condensation drifted out of his nostrils, slowly drifting slowly up in the cold autumn air. “Well, place is still standin’. If it really is in trouble, we ain’t too late,” Sterlas said, giving a uneasy glance to the sky.

Casil nodded, pulling her shawl in closer. She reached out and tugged on Sterlas’s sleeve, starting to step forward again. She didn’t want to waste time, even if the city looked fine. 

Sterlas followed after her. “What if they don’t believe us?” He suddenly said, furrowing his brow. “I mean, sayin’ we saw a dragon burn down Helgen ain’t exactly…  _ believable. _ Or, what if they already know? Ain’t like we came straight here either- there’s gotta ‘ave been  _ someone  _ else who at least said the damn place is a ash heap-”

Casil turned and shot Sterlas a unhappy glare, puffing her cheeks up. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the dirt road, almost making Sterlas barrel into her in the process. ‘Then we will just go home after that. We didn’t see anyone else escape, right?’

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout ya, but I wasn’t exactly  _ watching _ ,” Sterlas replied, folding his arms across his chest as he backed up from the necromancer.

Casil just shook her head. ‘We will tell them anyways. Just in case,’ she signed firmly, giving a knowing and stern nod of her head before tucking her hands back into the warmth of her robes. She turned sharply on her heels, the dirt creaking in protest before she paced back down the hill in determination.

Sterlas sighed again, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. She’d never take ‘no’ as an answer, that much was for certain. Well, if it eased her worries, then he supposed they’d just have to go through with it. His gaze shifted to the distant silhouette of Whiterun. He’d never been fond of Jarls and other members of… well, any form of organized government needless to say. Hopefully this encounter with them wouldn’t go poorly for either of them.

 

 

The change in the atmosphere was immediately noticeable before the two had even finished getting down the hill. People looked uneasy and paranoid, and traffic on the road was noticeably quieter. Instead of running and playing through fields and down the road, children were huddled under shed covers or near the door of their homes, and some people were moving animals into shelter as well. It was obvious that  _ some  _ sort of news had reached Whiterun already, and people were weary. 

A few farmers side-eyed Casil and Sterlas as they quietly passed down the road, their looks suspicious. Casil tried to ignore them as she always did, but this time she felt like their gazes implied like Casil and Sterlas could have had something to do with… whatever they’d heard.Nothing good, that much was for certain. Casil wasn’t sure if she could blame them though. Casil had always gotten weary stares no matter where she went or how long she visited. Inevitably, there would be people who had never seen her before or weren’t familiar with her, and a woman like her with a man like Sterlas smelled like trouble without any sort of rumors to fuel a farmer’s paranoia.

Sterlas took notice. “Remember that hero thing I was sayin’?” Sterlas said lowly. “I’m gettin’ the feelin’ these folks aren’t feelin’ the same about it as we are.”

Casil scrunched her nose up, ignoring Sterlas’s comment. She scanned the road ahead. More guards than usual seemed to be traversing the road that lead up to the main gate of Whiterun, but to her relief none of them seemed particularly interested in her or Sterlas. For the first time in a long time, Casil was hoping that at least some of them recognized her and Sterlas so they wouldn’t give them trouble. 

While they got some looks, nobody stopped them until they started to head up the path to the gate. A guard stepped in front of them, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Halt! I’m afraid you cannot enter. The city is on lock down,” the guard stated firmly. “I’m afraid you will have to turn around and go elsewhere.”

Sterlas paused, but Casil did not. The guard moved to try to stop her, but Sterlas beat him to it and dragged Casil back by her hood. “Uh- sorry about that,” he laughed uneasily, apologizing for Casil as he threw the small woman behind him like a naughty child. 

Casil angrily tried to sign things from behind Sterlas, being held back from progressing by one of his beefy arms. Despite the metal that covered the guard’s face, Sterlas could feel the confusion from the poor man.

“Uh- we have news to deliver to the Jarl,” Sterlas said quickly, trying to decipher what Casil was saying as she squirmed around his arm while trying to keep an eye on the guards that were starting to gather around the commotion. Sterlas dropped his voice, not wanting to start panic. “We saw a dragon attack. At Helgen,” he said lowly, trying to sound as serious as possible. His face and gaze were level, but inside Sterlas felt like he was about to burst into flames. Surely between what he said and Casil’s soundless fit under his arm made him look a little less than credible.

The guard turned and looked at some of his companions awkwardly, and Sterlas could already feel the cold metal of shackles around his wrists. He tried to keep his face from expressing his hopelessness, but to his shock the guard stepped out of their way. “Alright. Hurry up to Dragonsreach. But you better not cause any trouble,” the guard muttered, sweeping an arm to let the two pass.

In Sterlas’s hesitation, Casil managed to worm her way out of his grip and press ahead, walking surprisingly fast for being so damn short. She really was determined about doing this. Sterlas grunted and nodded in thanks to the guard before quickly catching up to Casil, resisting the urge to reach out and grab her again. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, Sterlas threw a glare at Casil. “Are ya fuckin’ out of ya mind?” He hissed, stooping over to whisper to her. “Ya gonna get us  _ arrested. _ ”

Casil glanced at him, unamused. She arched a brow, before pridefully lifting her chin and shaking her head. ‘No arrest,’ she signed before folding her arms tightly across her chest.

“Look, just…” Sterlas rubbed his temples for a moment. “Don’t go bargin’ into this, okay? We ain’t exactly this month’s shinin’ examples of civilian behavior. They ain’t gonna hesitate to put us in the hole, aight?” 

Casil upturned her lower lip, squinting ahead at the gate. She nodded a bit though, just to get Sterlas off her back.

He straightened himself out. Well, that was the best he could do. Divines help him if she decided not to listen.

The guards at the gate hesitated but let them in, cracking the giant wood doors just enough to allow the tiny bosmer and her much larger redguard friend in. Much like the surrounding countryside, the mood inside the walls of Whiterun had drastically changed since the last time they’d been in there. While people were out, many people lingered at the edges of the streets or seemed to be staying inside and under cover. More guards patrolled  the streets, though it didn’t seem like they were looking for anything to be happening inside the walls itself. As they passed Warmaiden’s, even Adrianne seemed to be inside, and Casil was used to seeing the woman somewhere in the shop’s yard in the sea of smithing tools that lined the side and front of the shop. 

“I wonder if she’s still working on that order,” Sterlas snorted, looking to the shop as well as they passed.

‘If the war is even over,’ Casil signed to him, lips pursed.

Sterlas furrowed his brow with a hum. She was right. They still weren’t sure on what had become of that, not that it had been the most pressing problem on their list right now. People glanced at Casil and Sterlas as they made their way up to the street, those who saw  them enter leaning over to whisper to each other once Casil and Sterlas had gone by.

The tension made Casil’s skin crawl. The walls, while there for people’s protection, felt more claustrophobic and restraining than they ever had before. Maybe because there were more people  _ in  _ the city than usual. 

Even in the higher districts of Whiterun that Casil and Sterlas had only been to a few times, people crowded together in doorways and treated open areas like they could be dangerous. To Sterlas’s dismay, he couldn’t pick up what anyone was saying- it was too far away and quiet for even his sharp ears to hear.

Casil’s pace slowed as they got closer to Dragonsreach. The ancient building loomed ahead of them, perched on the highest point in Whierun. The worn wood carving of dragon’s heads watched them, looking significantly less impressive now that the image of the living thing was burned into Casil’s memory. Sterlas caught Casil glancing back at the way they came, and he could tell her confidence was starting to flee now that they were actually  _ there.  _ Sterlas would laugh, but he couldn’t blame her. He was nervous himself. 

Sterlas reached out, giving Casil a firm pack on the back that made her stumble forward. “Let’s just get it over with,” he muttered as she glanced up at him.

Lips pursed, Casil nodded before taking a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? She was so sure about it back at Whiterun’s gate. There was no point in chickening out now. Casil clambered up the winding stairs to Dragonsreach, trying to hold her posture to look as confident as she could.

The guards at Dragonsreach allowed the two in once Sterlas stated their intention, opening the doors onto a grand hall illuminated by torches and a giant billowing fire at the hall’s heart.

Sterlas moved directly behind Casil so she couldn’t back up, seeing her hesitate once they were inside. A pair of long tables lined either side of the hall, and a few people sat at various seats eating while many others, from servants to important city members, hurried about the rest of the building. At the end of the hall, underlit ominously by the roaring bonfire, hung a massive dragonskull that prior to a few days ago Sterlas would have guessed was fake. Below it was a wood throne, and upon said throne sat the Jarl.

Casil took a deep breath again before striding forward and up the various stairs that lead up to the main floor and then the raised platform that the Jarl’s chair sat on. Sterlas followed her, eyeing the people in the hall. Once again, the two of them were getting looks, but here they felt much more potent. 

Jarl Balgruuf was busy talking to a well-dressed man to his side, not even fully noticing Sterlas and Casil as they approached. His housecarl, a middle aged dunmer woman, had. She stepped down the stairs, wrapping her hand around the hilt of her sword as she narrowed her eyes at Casil and Sterlas.

“What is the meaning of this? Who let you in here? Who are you?” She snapped, tense.

Casil raised her hands, and she could hear the sharp grind of metal as the dunmer pulled the sword an inch out of its hilt. She froze as she made it just past the bonfire, keeping her hands up to show thats he meant no harm. Sterlas stopped at her side, mimicking her movement. 

“Hey, hey. We ain’t here lookin’ for trouble or to do any harm,” Sterlas said quickly. The dunmer looked between them expectantly, looking for a answer still.

Casil slowly lowered her hands, going to start signing to Sterlas for his translation, but the subtle grind metal made her stop again.

“She’s mute. Let me translate for her. She ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Sterlas interjected, leaning back from the dunmer. 

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but Jarl Balgruuf finally turned his attention to the people before him. He reached out a hand to stop the woman, frowning at her before looking back to Casil and Sterlas. “Irileth, that’s enough. Let them approach and speak,” he demanded.

Irileth scowled, before snapping her sword back into its hilt and backing up to Jarl Balgruuf’s side.

Casil exhaled in relief, before signing to Sterlas.

“We come bearing news. We saw a dragon attack Helgen. We checked, but we didn’t find any survivors. She- we were worried about this city bein’ reduced to a pile of ash too, so we came to warn ya,” Sterlas translated.

The sounds of people working around them petered off into silence, and it was obvious that everyone was now listening in on this conversation. Casil could feel all the eyes and attention on her back, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Jarl Balgruuf’s eyes went wide, and he leaned forward in his chair. 

“Then the rumors are true? That there really  _ was  _ a dragon?” He questioned. Irileth was looking just as surprised, and her initial dislike for the two seemed to be withdrawn.

Casil nodded, turning her attention back to Sterlas.

“Yeah. A giant thing, with scales black like obsidian and eyes like red coals. Thing made it rain fire from the heavens. We were a good mile o’ two away from the damn beast and we still ran from flamin’ hail. Ain’t a soul alive when we checked after the thing was long gone. Knocked towers of stone over like a kid with an anthill.”

Jarl Balgruuf slowly leaned onto one arm of the chair, scratching his beard slowly. “So, Irileth was right,” he said, glancing to his housecarl. “Though I question what it was that you were doing out there during this event, to hear someone else confirm what we suspected….” He trailed off, before righting himself. “Did you see where it was headed?” 

Casil pursed her lips, looking to Sterlas. She shook her head.

Sterlas grimaced under the intensity of the Jarl’s stare. “Uh, not exactly. Somewhere north though. That’s all we got. That was probably a good week ago though by now,” Sterlas said, giving them a guilty shrug. He glanced to Casil to see if she wanted to add anything. “It was fast. We’re not sure if knowin’ where it went a week ago would even help by now.”

Jarl Balgruuf sighed, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. Slowly, he nodded. “Irileth, send troops to Riverwood and Rorikstead. We cannot allow these places to be left open to attack.”

Irlieth stiffened, looking to Jarl Balgruuf in surprise. The man he’d been talking to earlier shifted in discomfort as well. “If we move our forces, it will look like we’re taking sides in the war, or trying to make a move ourselves and-”

Jarl Balgruuf waved a hand to dismiss the man’s words, and Irileth took that as a sign to move. “I will dispatch them at once,” she said, nodding sharply to the Jarl. The dunmer stepped down the stairs, shooting Casil and Sterlas a careful glance as she passed before heading off to her Jarl’s orders.

Casil swallowed sharply, hearing a soft murmur pick up among the remaining crowd. This was a lot more uncomfortable than she’d initially thought, but it was obvious that it was news they needed to hear. Would it be of any help? Casil wasn’t sure, but at least she’d  _ tried.  _

Jarl Balgruuf turned his attention back to Casil and Sterlas. “Thank you for warning us. This information is invaluable. We will be able to prepare and be ready as we can if the dragon decides to attack.”

Casil’s jaw tensed, before she raised her hands to speak. The Jarl raised a eyebrow at the motions, and looked to Sterlas expectantly to translate.

Sterlas cleared his throat, throwing Casil a look before sighing. “She’s wonderin’ what ya think ya guards can do against a dragon. The Imperial soldiers we saw fightin’ this thing at Helgen didn’t do shit to it, and that thing cut ‘em down like scythe to grain.”

“Is that  _ really  _ what she’s saying?!” The man next to the Jarl exclaimed, his voice hiking a pitch in offense.

“Proventus…” The Jarl groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Sterlas shrugged. “Look, I ain’t a poet. I swear on the Divines, it’s word for word.”

Jarl Balgruuf sighed, but didn’t question it. “We will do what we can to protect our people, that much you can be assured of. With the information you brought, we will be one step closer to such. Now…” Jarl Balgruuf looked the two over. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your names.”

Casil’s face contorted awkwardly, and out of formality she signed her name.

“Her name is Casil. Name’s Sterlas al-Vildret, at ya service,” Sterlas said, giving a rather mocking bow.

Casil tensed as Jarl Balgruuf narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Casil and Sterlas, I see. Since I take that neither of you are actually  _ from  _ Whiterun, I’m sure you’ve traveled quite some distance. Should you need shelter, you simply need to ask. The city is in your debt, and i’m sure you could use some rest if you plan on heading back out,” he said.

Casil glanced to Sterlas to discuss what their plans were, but as she raised her hands she noticed someone approaching them from one of the side wings of the building. Casil paused, raising a brow before everyone else followed her gaze.

“Ah- sorry- I hope i’m not interrupting, but I thought I heard that you saw a  _ dragon? _ ” the man asked, peering out from under his hooded  mage robes.

Jarl Balgruuf grunted. “Farengar, at least give these travelers a chance to rest before you decide to assault them with your questions.”

Casil nodded to the court mage, waving a hand to the Jarl in hopes of showing that it was fine. She simply tilted her head quizzically, hoping to show that she was listening. Sterlas grimaced.

“Yeah, we did. Why?” He asked anyways, tensing in anticipation.

“Ah! Really? I know Irileth swore she had seen one, but nobody here had really fully  _ believed  _ her about it- I told them that it was possible, and that I had this theory and-” the man began to ramble excitedly, but the look of mild alarm on Casil’s face at his sudden explosion of energy made him cut himself off. “Well- long story short, I actually think I have information that could pertain to the dragons, and to know that people really  _ saw  _ one is incredible!”

“It doesn’t help your project though, without that damn rock you’ve been trying to get,” a woman said from the table, looking over her shoulder at him.

Casil was curious. Sterlas, however, was not. He turned to try to start walking away, hoping to edge out of the conversation, but Casil grabbed him and stopped him.

Farengar grunted. “No. It doesn’t really,” he muttered. “But it’s still something! It’s a dragon! A real, live  _ dragon! _ In Skyrim!”

‘What kind of rock are you looking for?’ Casil signed curiously after elbowing Sterlas roughly in the side for him to pay attention and repeat her question.

Farengar looked to Casil hopefully. “The Dragonstone! I believe it’s a map relating to the dragons- locations of burials, I think- but I haven’t been able to retrieve it. I believe it’s in Bleak Falls Barrow- you know, that great set of ruins to the south west, west of Riverwood? But I haven’t been able to get anyone to fetch it for me or to check-”

Sterlas threw the man a unimpressed look. He’d set this all up to try to get them to find it for him, hadn’t he? Sterlas groaned, but Casil was… interested, to say the least.

And if nothing else, it was a job. And if the war was… Casil paused on that thought. Was the war still going? She glanced to Proventus out of the corner of her eye. From what he said, it sounded like that was the case. Did she need the money then?

No, but her curiosity was going to get the better of her. She loved to find new ruins and things others hadn’t discovered yet, especially if it could sell for  _ lots.  _ And if this guy was looking for something rare like that in a place that people knew of, then maybe this man had an idea of a way to get in deeper. To stuff untouched.

Casil put her hand on her hip, pretending to think. Sterlas folded his arms. They were going to take this job, weren’t they? Frankly, this was the first time Casil had even  _ remotely  _ considered doing something for someone else- but this sounded right up her alley. He slowly leaned over to her, clearing his throat. Casil glanced up at him, and Strelas raised his hand. For a moment, he squinted in hard thought, before very roughly and crudely signing. ‘Remember fire animal?’

Casil had to take a second to realize what he was saying, before rolling her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she signed. ‘We’ll just. Be careful. We haven’t seen it, right? Maybe it’ll focus on, I don’t know. Rorikstead. Or maybe it’s doing us a favor and reducing Makarth to a crisp,’ she signed, shrugging before looking to Farengar. ‘If we went out to get it for you, what would we get in return?’

Sterlas was tempted just to ignore what Casil said and pretend she’d said that they were going to leave, but reluctantly he asked.

Farengar was ecstatic. “Ah, well, that would be up for the Jarl to decide,” he said, glancing over to Balgruuf. 

Jarl Balgruuf had returned to his conversation with Proventeus, only throwing Farengar a look from the corner of his eye and nothing more.

Casil scratched her chin, glancing at the Jarl as well. ‘And this stone is important to dragons… how?’

“I believe it may offer some answers in how or why the dragons are coming back. But, until I  _ get  _ the stone, I can’t be sure. And right  now, that’s all I can offer you as far as that information is concerned,” Farengar said, somewhat defensively.

Scholars. Casil tapped her lower lip with her index finger, before nodding. ‘Fine. I’ll see if I can find it for you,’ Casil signed, nodding her head.

Sterlas uneasily repeated. Great. What had happened to the fear of dragons? 

Farengar clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! I’m afraid I can’t give you much more information beyond that it’s likely deep within Bleak Fall Barrows, but like I believe the Jarl said just before I jumped in, I can find you a place to room and dine if you need it.”

Casil nodded, glancing to Sterlas. ‘We can leave tomorrow.’

 

 

Casil leaned back in the chair, digging her fork into a chunk of cow heart before plopping it into her mouth. ‘Why the fuck does he need us to go out there?’ she signed after setting the fork down.

Sterlas raised a brow, before laughing. “Complainin’ already? Ain’t even out there yet. Hey, I ain’t the one who agreed to that,” he said, raising his hands in defense.

Casil wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, listening to the jaunty tune drifting through the room. The inn was much nicer than what they were used to- a higher-end place in the Cloud District mostly used by traveling merchants. Even with the unease outside, the atmosphere managed to wind down enough to be enjoyable. ‘Yeah, and? It’s looking for fancy relics in a rune for a court wizard. He might actually be onto something. And if it’s neat enough, I’ll just keep it myself,’ Casil said with a shrug. 

Sterlas shook his head before tearing a bite off of a turkey leg. “Court wizards ain’t got the freedom ya do, Casil,” he said with his mouth full, earning him a dirty look from a very well-dressed breton at the neighboring table. “They can’t just go wander wherever they want whenever they want like ya can.”

Casil gave that thought a look of consideration, rocking back and forth a few times before letting the front feet of her chair clatter back onto the ground. ‘I would go crazy doing research like that.’

“Hey, it’s a reputable job with a stable income and a house. Most people would kill for that,” Sterlas reminded her. “It ain’t ya, but it ain’t a job to scoff at if ya ask me.”

She scrunched her face, but said nothing.

Sterlas took another bite. “Well, do you really think he’s got anything of interest down there in the Barrow? Do you think we’ll  _ find  _ anything?”

Casil made a look of consideration, turning her fork on her hand before she set it down again and dug through her bag for her journal. She fumbled through it. ‘Bleak Falls Barrow is a well known place, so i’m not sure,’ Casil signed.

“Least last I heard, it was a favorite bandit hangout,” Sterlas said. “Been over fifteen years since I was in the loop, but I can’t imagine things have changed that much. Ain’t like the war wasn’t going on back then.”

Wasn’t that a thought. Casil squinted a bit. Had it been fifteen years since she’d met Sterlas? Had the war really been longer than that? Sheesh. ‘So it’s visited a lot. There must be something hidden in there then, if what he’s looking for is still there. He said it was a rock, with markings. Maybe it isn’t that interesting and people just haven’t picked it up,’ Casil pondered.

Sterlas shrugged. “Don’t sound that interestin’. No bandit I knew would have picked up somethin’ like that, but. We ain’t treasure hunters like ya are. If someone else, I don’t know, five  _ decades  _ ago went lookin’ in there maybe they did find it and it just got lost. Ain’t like anyone is keepin’ track of what relics are and are not taken in this shithole.”

Casil looked over her notes with a sigh. ‘Well, we will find out tomorrow I guess. I hope it’s at least  _ something _ .’


	4. IV - Dovahgolz [Dragonstone]

Despite how long she’d lived in Skyrim, Casil had never actually visited Bleak Falls Barrow. The ominous silhouettes of the ruin’s spires were easily seen from the main road that ran past Riverwood to Whiterun, even on some stormy days. The worn arches and pillars that marked the entry to the ruins were a eerie reminder of the past that had survived thousands of years of harsh weather and hardship.

The barrow had, up till now, been like most other well-known nordic ruins- run down, disgusting, and populated by bandits and maybe a few draugr if it had any hope of having something  _ new _ in it. Several bandits had been braving the frigid and biting cold outside under the giant archways that lead up to the heavy iron door that opened into the main hall of Bleak Falls Barrow, and a few more bandits loitered inside the crumbling, hole-filled hall around a small campfire that rested in the center of their rather pathetic base camp. Garbage from several generations of bandits had accumulated in the corners of the hall and the first few rooms after it, leaving a pervading smell of filth and rot that overpowered the usual damp musk of nordic ruins. At least a thousand years of grafiti had piled up on the walls and no mural or relic remained intact, reduced to unidentifiable smudges or piles of rubble that couldn’t be distinguished from any of the other garbage that littered the ground. It was one of Casil’s least favorite kinds of places, and didn’t even have the vaguely redeeming quality of belonging currently to bandits that seemed to have any kind of trove or meaningful belongings. Just a rough group of sad, measly bandits who had managed to scrape the Barrow out of the hands of whatever previous pathetic bandit hoard had held it just in time for winter.

But there were draugr- and very quickly into Sterlas and Casil’s descent did they come to the realization that draugr were a very common problem for whoever was camped out in the upper levels. Draugr bodies lay scattered across some of the further reaching halls that the bandits seemed to inhabit on a somewhat regular basis, which at least informed Casil that there was likely a good section of the Barrows that had yet been thoroughly explored. Casil had found that the presence of the ancient nordic dead often went hand in hand with how much of the location had been looted- the more draugr, the better the treasure. Even with such a well known location like this one, it was obvious that most people didn’t go past a few sets of doors that seemed to have gone through a few hundred years of various levels of barricade, and everything past there was unexplored territory.

Well, largely. Clearly, someone else had had the bright idea of delving deeper into the ruins, and he had made it a bit further than people seemed to have normally gone- and right into a spider’s web. A very large spider’s web. And this very bright dunmer man, Casil had found shortly after slaying the vermin who’d created the webs and even shorter after she’d carefully singed the webs from the man, was bright enough to think that booking it deeper into the ruin would save him from… whatever he expected from Casil. Her stealing his treasure, apparently.

Casil shifted the heavy golden dragon claw statue in her hand, straightening her back. She didn’t have to steal his treasure. Divines, she hadn’t even had to kill the man herself. He’d barreled right into a trap a few halls ahead of where Casil had freed him, and was dead before Casil had even caught up.

Sterlas wandered over to Casil, cautious not to step on the pressure plate that had triggered an entire wall’s length of spikes to slam into the dunmer. His ears perked up, having changed into his werewolf form before they’d even gotten into the Barrows.

Casil held up the claw to him, letting him sniff it. It wasn’t a rock, that was clear, but it certain looked expensive and neat. She could tell it wasn’t solid gold based off of the weight, but even if it was only gold plated or brushed the thing was almost as long as her forearm. It was curved into what Casil could only assume was supposed to be a dragon’s foot, complete with embellished swirls and designs along the toes and the back. On the underside were three circles that had a bear, a moth, and an owl in them. It certainly  _ looked  _ like it was from about the same time period as the rest of the ruin based on the designs, but she’d never seen anything like it before.

Maybe, even if they didn’t find the rock they were  _ supposed  _ to be looking for, this would sell for some sort of money. Maybe it’d at least make up for the miserable walk through the rain they’d taken to reach the Barrows.

Casil shoved the hunk of metal into her satchel with what little coin the man had on him before edging cautiously around the swing range of the trap. Even if she could see the pressure plate, she had no interest of being near the thing. The man’s body had been knocked back a few feet from the sheer impact of the mechanism, and blood dripped off of the spikes that had impaled him. Casil had no interest in experiencing that herself. She waited to make sure Sterlas made it past safely himself before continuing forward.

Despite the draugr that stirred every few rooms to stop them, Casil was surprised to find how… empty the barrow was. Most of the halls had been nothing but burial rooms - wall after wall of loculi stuffed with draugr or inanimate bodies of ancient nords. None of them carried much either- most were sparsely dressed ancient armor that was crumbling and cracking with each movement, and armed with the most basic of weapons. Foot soldiers, farmers, common folk. People piled up in mass mausoleums with few personal belongings. Some hadn’t even made it to their loculus and ended up in piles in corners or left on the floor.

It was a peculiar place. Casil just hoped that the rock they were looking for was somewhere obvious and not hidden in one of the probably thousands of entombments that she’d passed by. Even as a necromancer, the idea of spending hours unwrapping every body looking for a singular rock did not sound like a fun time.

Casil was certain that it wasn’t for another hour before they finally reached something of interest- and interesting it was.

Their path finally came to what would probably normally be a very distinctive dead end: what appeared as a giant stone wall. Casil paused as she rounded the corner, magelight dancing around her hand. It cast its stark, pale light down the length of the hall, illuminating several long, ornate murals that decorated either side that lead up to the wall-like door at the end. Casil slowed her pace, checking for traps first  before she took a moment to admire the carvings.

Few locations had good murals that Casil had been too. Most had not survived the years, be it to nature or to defacing. But these did not look like they’d been touched since the day they’d been carved. Cobwebs and dust coated them, but after blowing them off and brushing some dirt out of the crevices Casil could make out every detail clear as day.

A sacrifice, or an offering. And a priest. Most of them depicted some priest or person of power surrounded by people carrying food, animals, the deceased, gold- all sorts of things. Each were carved with extensive detail and loving care, clearly of great importance to whoever had made them. It was a shame there wasn’t more time to study each one- Casil was sure she could spend all day just trying to sketch the first wall. If she’d known there would be such beautiful reliefs, she would have bought huge sheets of paper and brought charcoal to get rubbings of them.

Maybe another time.

Casil turned her attention to the far end of the hall. At first, when the magelight had initially illuminated it, Casil’s hearted had dropped and she had been certain it was just a wall. But upon closer inspection, she came to realize that the wall was… some sort of door. A large stone door with circular moving panels, and the  most unusual keyhole in the shape of a dragon’s claw. Each of the three moving rings had three emblems embedded into it with reliefs of various animals.

Casil dug into her satchel, blinking as she removed the claw she’d picked up off of the dunmer earlier. Was this the key…? Had she just been lucky enough to both beat someone to this place, and beat the person who actually had the means of getting further down? Casil shifted the magelight so she could see the door and the claw better, examining and comparing the two. Sterlas sniffed around at the edge of the door in boredom, sneezing when he inhaled a noseful of dust.

The claw certainly looked like it would fit in the keyhole, or at least that it would line up and the claws would act as the teeth of the key. But Casil wasn’t about to just stick it in there and find out- there was more to this, and even though she couldn’t see any traps she wasn’t about to risk it. She slowly turned a few of the stone rings, wincing at the horrible grinding noise they made. They still moved, but she could hear the sound of old mechanics that hadn’t been moved in millenia and the rings themselves offered some resistance before moving along to their next slot. The emblem of a wolf slowly slipped behind the bottom panel, and a emblem of a bear revealed itself next. 

Casil turned the golden claw in her other hand. Bear. Moth. Owl. She reached up to shift the next ring until it showed moth, and repeated the step for the final ring. A simple puzzle that required the right order and key, presumably. Casil took a deep breath, motioning to Sterlas to stand back. 

The werewolf backed up a few feet as she raised the claw to the keyhole, pressing it forward until the three talons sunk into their respective holes. It pushed in and seemed to line up right, so Casil tried to turn it. It took some effort, but the stone turned with a low rumble and then a soft  _ click.  _

Sterlas yelped and jumped back with Casil as the whole room trembled, sending dirt raining down from the ceiling as the wall shuddered. Slowly, the rings that bore the animal emblems turned a few times, before the wall suddenly started to lower into the ground with a mechanical and rhythmic  _ thunk, thunk, thunk.  _ Casil’s eyes went wide, watching as the stone door almost disappear into the ground below. She looked back to Sterlas, a smile slowly creeping over her face.

This, now  _ this  _ was something new. This lead to something nobody else had probably been in millenia.  _ This  _ was where the good stuff was going to be. 

Casil could hardly contain her excitement. She turned and all but sprinted off past the door, just managing to catch herself to check for traps before proceeding. Sterlas huffed, ears pinned back against his head in obvious unease. New places meant true uncertainty, and he didn’t like that. That said, the air that exited past the door wasn’t as stale as he expected, so he couldn’t help but wonder if this section of the ruin they were about to enter was really sealed off or just… sealed off from entry  _ here _ but still had access from somewhere else.

At least he couldn’t tell her that right now. Casil really seemed to be excited, and he’d hate to ruin her fun.

At first, the rather bland cave that the door lead to was a let down to Casil. But soon they’d found their fair share of draugr again- and draugr with better armor, better weapons, and much more  _ aggression.  _ Draugr with some power, and probably a purpose. The necromancy here that drove the dead to continue their rounds pricked at Casil’s skin like pins and needles. It was almost tangible to her, lingering in the air to ensure that those interred here protected it. 

And protected whatever was important here, which Casil had a feeling they were getting closer to. Nobody built a door like that or a place like this without something bigger to hide or guard. Casil couldn’t imagining anyone going through that much effort for a bunch of peasants, if modern folk were anything to go by. Peasants didn’t get a fancy door to guard their graves. They got wood boards and the worst plot of land with the fewest guards, as Casil found. 

Sure enough, the winding pathways opened up into a rather large cave that, to Casil’s surprise, opened up to the outside. She hadn’t realized how close they’d come back to the surface- the amount they’d winded up and down, back and forth, coupled with the fact that they had started near the top of a mountain had made it impossible for Casil to track where they actually were as far as the mountain went. Snow gently drifted in through a few holes in the ceiling, and a huge stream of water babbled through from its source at a waterfall on the far side of the cave. A single stone bridge had been built across a portion of the stream, though it was clear that the water’s path had shifted since its construction. Here, the walls were lined with actual sarcophagi, and at the far side of the cave across the stream and in the light of one of the holes in the ceiling was a rune wall and some important looking metal coffins.

Casil cautiously took a step into the chamber. A colony of bats fluttered from their roost on the ceiling, fluttering off to another undisturbed location as Casil and Sterlas continued into the cave.

Even with its opening to the outside, it didn’t look like anyone had been in there. The sarcophagi looked untouched, and even as Casil approached them the bodies inside remained still. Casil glanced to Sterlas, tempted to check out the sarcophagi now, but she decided to finish checking the room first before she just got to grave robbing.

Sterlas uneasily followed Casil across the bridge, taking set up stairs up to the raised platform that contained the rune wall and the most ornate of the sarcophagi. Casil dismissed the magelight, relying on the dim grey light from above to light her way. She was shocked nobody had found this place yet if there was a way to it directly from the outside, but after looking at the gaps above it was likely they were hidden most of the year by ice and snow - the long drop from any of them aside. 

Sterlas’s hackles raised as they made their way up the steps, and Casil’s attention fell on the sarcophagus. The necromancy around it made her skin itch. She motioned to Sterlas to keep an eye on it, not trusting for its owner to remain still. She took a few more steps out onto the main platform, turning to look up and admire the rune wall.

The dovahzul markings looked almost fresh, still sharp and clear like the reliefs in the stone door room. She could make out a few words she’d seen before, though not all of them she had a definition for. After they checked the coffin, she’d have to write down this one too. She reached up, placing her hand against the cold stone.

There was a unfamiliar itch in her palm that she passed off at first as just the necromancy, but soon the sensation changed. Her vision blurred for a moment, and it felt like the wind had been caught in her throat. The world felt like it flipped upside down in a moment of vertigo, and her insides for a brief second felt like they were both on fire and trying to leap out of her. Casil was only vaguely aware of the muffled sound of Sterlas’s bark as she staggered back from the wall, screwing her eyes shut as she tried to right herself again.

The momentary ring of tinnitus was broken by the sudden sound of stone shattering against stone, bringing Casil reeling back to her senses. Her eyes snapped open, immediately causing her to squint in pain at the sudden light as she tried to find the source of the noise.

A draugr in ornate armor stepped from the coffin, icy blue eyes locking on Casil. His armor was made of a dark metal covered in decorative swirls and marks, and though it was still sparse it was clear that this was a person of importance. Below the ledge, Sterlas was moving to try to run up to reach the undead before it could get at Casil, but the draugr’s halberd had a much further reach than he’d been expecting.

Casil inhaled in pain as the blade sung by, just skimming through her arm as she flinched back out of its direct path. The knick still send her to the ground, and the world spun as her head came to collide with the cold stone. She closed her eyes tightly in pain, feeling warm blood start to roll down her arm as well as  dampen the side of her head. Stupid. She should have been paying better attention. She struggled to push herself up with her unwounded arm as the world spun around her from the impact. 

Sterlas lunged up at the draugr as he pulled the halberd back to wind up for another swing. The werewolf’s claws raked across the draugr’s chest, filling the air with the sound of tearing metal and breaking ribs. The undead was sent to the ground, toppling over the broken lid of its sarcophagus as Sterlas drove it back. Had it been human, that might have been enough to incapacitate it, but the clear dent in its chest did little to slow it. Sterlas’s second blow was blocked with the shaft of the draugr’s weapon. The draugr shoved Sterlas back as it pushed itself up, making Sterlas stagger back just enough to give it space to fully rise. The back end of the polearm came up to strike Sterlas in the jaw, making him yelp in pain and jerk back in surprise.

Casil gripped the wound in her arm, quickly trying to mend it with magic. The draugr’s eyes snapped to her again, sending a shiver up her spine. 

“Aav dilon!” The undead snarled, a cold cloud of air exiting from between gnarled teeth. 

Casil only understood one of the two words, but she doubted the other word mattered when the one word  meant ‘death’. She figured she had the gist. She pulled back, trying to move to get a clear shot at the draugr once her arm was healed again. Sterlas lashed out again, his claws striking the metal of the halberd once more before the draugr returned with its own attack. Its attacks were slow and predictable, but each swing carried the intent to kill backed with power and accuracy most draugr lacked. Sterlas couldn’t quite find a way to get in to bite or tear at the draugr without getting hit away, and a few times the blade managed to send a tuft of fur and splatter of blood flying when it grazed him. If there was one thing Casil saw that was obvious though, it was that Sterlas was going to get tired of such quick movements long before the draugr did.

Casil managed to find an angle where she was unlikely to hit her companion, conjuring up a giant ball of fire between her hands before she hurled it at the draugr’s back. The flames exploded against its back, sending embers and sparks flying in every direction with the sickening sound of burning skin. The draugr snarled, whipping its head around to scowl at Casil. Before she had a chance to react, the draugr turned to face her.

“ _ Fus ro dah! _ ”

Casil felt a wave of force slam into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Casil was sent flying a few feet, and before she had a chance to try to figure out what had just happened, her head slammed into the rocks she landed on, and everything went black.

 

 

The world came back to Casil in another round of spinning and blurry vision. Casil exhaled sharply, her head throbbing from nailing the stone twice in the span of a few minutes. She could feel the cool dampness of blood from both of the places she’d hit the ground, though the wound on the back of her head had managed to dribble down the back of her shirt. 

“Ya alright, kiddo? Take it easy.”

Sterlas’s voice made her wince, sounding too loud in that moment for her. She brought a hand up slowly to grip her head, trying to take slow breaths to collect herself. She felt one of Sterlas’s huge hands carefully grip her shoulder, helping her into a sitting position against the rock she’d landed on. Casil squinted, looking around the room as she tried to take in everything again. Sterlas, clearly back in his human form, was crouched to her side, and past him lay the word wall and the body of the draugr, strung over one of the other tables that rested near its coffin. 

Sterlas snapped his fingers in front of Casil’s face, making her flinch back a bit. She made a face at him and waved her free hand as a ‘no’ to his answer. 

Sterlas grunted. Once he was sure Casil wasn’t about to pass out on him again or fall over, he rummaged around in his knapsack, taking a moment before he produced a small glass vial full of a rather vivid red fluid. He handed it over to Casil after popping the cork stop out of it. “Drink up. And don’t move too quickly, alright? Ya’ll pass out again.”  
Casil carefully took the potion, taking a moment to collect herself before throwing it back. She made a face at the rather strong taste. Healing potions rarely tasted good, but it wasn’t something she could complain about. Once it was down, she adjusted so she could bring her knees to her chest, resting her face against them as she closed her eyes and waited for the pounding and pain in her head to go away.

Casil could hear the crunch of gravel under Sterlas’s boots as he walked away from her, followed by the shift of cluttered objects somewhere else on the other side of the room. Casil tried to ignore it, taking deep breaths as the potion worked its magic. After a few moments, Sterlas returned  to her side, and the sound of objects clinking close made Casil finally pull her head away to peer out at what Sterlas had been doing.

Sterlas stretched out a burlap sack in front of her with what Casil assumed he’d found around while she’d been out. Spread across the woven material was a handful of precious gems and gold coins, a finely made enchanted elven dagger, some ancient looking jewelry, and a hunk of rock that Casil would have otherwise overlooked had it not been for the rather faint etchings on one side.

Casil wiped her blood-covered hand off on her robes before reaching out for the rock, picking it up to examine it. It was much heavier than she’d been expecting. One side held a inscription in dovahzul, inlaid with gold, while the other side held a map of Skyrim, also inlaid with gold. Scattered across the maps were carefully carved notches. So, this must have been what Farengar wanted. 

“What do ya think this map means?” Sterlas questioned, looking at the rock with Casil.

Casil frowned. ‘Something with dragons,’ she signed unhelpfully, resting the stone in her lap. She reached for her own bag, digging through it for her journal and a piece of charcoal. She ripped out a few pages before laying them over either side of the stone, making a few copies of rubbings of both sides before tucking her belongings back in her bag.

“Good plan,” Sterlas mused, moving to tie up the burlap sack of other findings and shove them into his usual bag. He straightened himself out, looking back to the word wall as Casil finished collecting herself. 

‘Let’s go and return this to the wizard. I want to translate this myself. And get home,’ Casil signed once Sterlas looked back at her.

The werewolf flashed her a mangled grin. “I’d never thought ya’d say you wanted to go home,” he teased, before following her out.


	5. V - Werid [Exaltation]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sorry for not having a beta reader. Feel free to point out weird sentences and errors if you want wheezes. Bless all ya'll for reading >:"Y! <3

Stone turned in? Check. Money received? Check. No strings attached? Also check.

Overall, Casil was rather pleased. Nobody had asked any more questions about what they’d come in and said earlier, Farengar didn’t seem interested in trapping them there, and they were paid for retrieving the rock - with a bonus that Casil had also managed to grab an inscription of what was on the rock itself, for herself. 

So, of course, it was impossible for things to continue going so swimmingly, and Casil really wasn’t sure why she thought it would for the brief moment it took for her and Sterlas to get halfway across the Jarl’s hall.

The doors to Whiterun slammed open, making Casil lurch back in surprise. Sterlas bumped into her, almost knocking her over in his own alarm. A guard came stumbling in, panting and drenched in sweat as he tried to walk up the short flight of stairs to the main level.

“A dragon!” he managed to huff out as loudly as he could. “There’s a dragon!”

Casil couldn’t resist throwing a rather  _ mortified  _ look back at Sterlas. Oh no, no no. By the eight Divine, couldn’t this have waited just a few minutes more for Sterlas and Casil to have left? The look Sterlas was giving Casil made her certain he felt the same.

Casil shifted to try to push Sterlas along, hoping to get to the side of the hall so they could worm their way out before they got dragged into anything, but the crowd of people swarming around them as the guard approached made it impossible for either to slink away unnoticed.

“Where?” Irileth gasped, getting up from where she sat at the ends of one of the long tables. The suddenness and sharpness of her motion caused some of the silver goblets in front of her to crash to the table with a clink, spilling their contents across the table’s surface.

“The Western Watchtower. I ran here as fast as I could,” the guard said between breaths, his hands on his knees.

Casil tried to scoot backwards, but Farengar managed to walk up behind them and finish boxing them into the group that had gathered to listen to the news.

“A dragon? In Whiterun?” Farengar asked in excitement, peering over Casil with wide eyes.

Casil shrunk down, fighting back rolling her eyes at the man. He just had to wait and then he too no doubt would be as unpleased as Casil and Sterlas were to hear about this.

Irileth motioned for the guard to follow her, turning to head up one of the sets of stairs that lead from the main hall to the back sections of Dragonsreach. She paused though, turning to look at Casil and Sterlas. “You two, come with me,” she said, motioning for them to follow as well.

Casil was sure she turned as white as a sheet. Her heart sunk. Oh shit. She tried not to let her face scrunch up too much in displeasure at that, throwing Sterlas another look before she was unable to prevent her lips from curling into a tight frown. They weren’t really getting a option to get out of this one, were they? She could feel all the eyes staring at her, and she supposed at the end of the day she had done this to herself. And the look Sterlas was giving her said that he blamed her for this.

“Hurry up!” Irileth barked from the top of the stairs, glaring at the two as they debated on making a break for it.

Casil exhaled sharply, hurrying up after the dunmer. Nope, they weren’t getting a choice. Sterlas followed after her, just as uneasy.

Casil could hear the tail end of the guard explaining what was going on to the Jarl as the reached the top of the stairs. The guard was dismissed, and the Jarl turned to face Casil and Sterlas.

“I know you two have just come back from traveling, and it may be much to ask this of you, but I want you to help Irileth and the guards face the dragon. You two are the only ones with any experience with dragons,” Jarl Balgruuf said firmly, arms folded across his chest.

Casil was certain the Jarl himself had ripped out any last hope that she could worm her way out of this. She swallowed hard, turning to Sterlas quickly. ‘Maybe we can run for it while they’re fighting,’ Casil signed in mild panic.

Sterlas’s eyes flitted between Casil’s sign language and the two behind her, feeling sweat bead on his brow. “Uh-,” he stammered for a moment. “I-uh-. I mean. We’ve only  _ seen  _ a dragon…” he tried to begin awkwardly. The look of expectation in the Jarl and Irileth’s eyes made him feel like he was about to be executed on the spot for anything but a ‘yes’.

“Still, that is more than what anyone else has. Please. This is for the people of Whiterun,” Jarl Balgruuf said, a frown appearing on his face.

Casil gave Sterlas her own look of panic, backed turned in hopes the other two wouldn’t see it.

“Y-yeah. Alright. Uh. I mean, yes my Jarl,” Sterlas said in panic, turning sharply. He grabbed Casil’s wrist and quickly started to head back down the stairs, feeling the stares of the other two drill holes into the back of his skulls. Immediately they could hear Irileth following behind them. Nope, she was not going to let them run from this.

‘What do we do? What do we  _ do? _ ’ Casil signed over and over in panic when Sterlas’s grip allowed it.

He gave her a wide-eyed stare and shrugged. He was as lost as she was. He just raised his other hand to point at her. If anyone was going to figure it out or take blame, it was  _ her _ . She wanted to play hero by bringing the news anyhow. 

Casil pouted, looking somewhat offended. But he wasn’t wrong, and maybe that’s what Casil hated the most about it. She just upturned her lip and tried to focus ahead, her brain scrambling for some sort of solution to whatever it was that they were about to get thrown into. 

 

 

Irileth had gathered a small regiment of guards to meet at Whiterun’s gate. Night had fallen shortly before they’d arrived back in the city to turn in the stone, and many of the guards carried torches in their hand. To Casil and Sterlas’s relief, this also meant that the streets were almost vacant. The fewer people to see this go down to cause a panic, the better. Casil and Sterlas loitered in the back of the group, paying no mind to Irileth as she delivered her motivational speech to the men.

Casil fidgeted uneasily, her eyes darting around. She had  _ not  _ wanted to get into this. She should have stayed quiet. She was no hero- she never had been - and now she was going to get herself killed like one. By being a idiot and going to go shake a stick at a dragon or something. Casil liked to think of herself as a fairly decent mage and necromancer, but she was really doubting any of that meant anything against a real dragon. Not like she could just whip necromancy out in front of Whiterun’s guards either! What was she left with? Fire. That was about it. Casil shrunk in on herself slowly, her mouth drawing into a thin line.

Sterlas couldn’t blame Casil’s nervousness. He was scared shitless himself, but by the eight he wasn’t about to let Casil know that. If he lost his cool, there was no way Casil would stick around. She’d probably just panic and light Whiterun on fire before booking it. He puffed his chest up, trying to seem like things were going to be fine. 

They weren’t. He knew that. He couldn’t even turn into a werewolf in front of the guards. He was armed with a somewhat dull shortsword he kept on him more for looks than anything, and while he could fight with it he really was out of practice. And against a dragon? Sterlas was certain he was probably as well off if he decided to just punch the lizard.

“We’ve got this,” Sterlas muttered, leaning over to her.

Casil threw him a skeptical look. ‘I can’t believe this is how I die,’ Casil signed to him, finally letting out a exhale that  blew a few loose strands of her hair out of her face.

Sterlas shrugged. “Hey, if ya do, at least people will remember it, right?” Sterlas teased quietly, nudging Casil with his elbow.

Casil swayed, trying to ignore it as the gate opened and the guards started to head out. Irileth threw a look over her shoulder aimed at Sterlas and Casil, making sure the two followed. Casil made a forced smile back at her, waiting until Irileth was looking ahead again before she just made one more look of despair at Sterlas. 

Well, this was going to be interesting.

 

 

Casil had been anticipating the Western Watchtower to be up in flames like Helgen was, but to her shock it wasn’t. Half of the tower had been toppled over, but instead of flames giant spires of ice grew out of the sides of the tower. Frost hung heavy in the air, and parts of the stone looked dangerously close to cracking with the expansion of the ice. 

The party stopped a little ways from the tower, trying to get a grasp on the situation. Irileth looked to Casil and Sterlas, brow arched sharply. “Didn’t you say the dragon you saw at Helgen set it  _ on fire? _ ” She questioned, a dangerous edge in her voice. The fire of her torch danced in her red eyes, making Casil uneasy.

Casil nodded, frowning as she looked over at the tower and the ice crystals stretching up towards the sky.

“Ya think there’s another dragon…?” Sterlas questioned lowly, scratching his beard as he gave the sky a uneasy glance.

“Not the same dragon…?” One of the guards questioned.

Casil grimaced. She didn’t want to think about more than  _ one  _ dragon.

“Like I feared. There may be more than one,” Irileth said, sighing. She gripped her sword, before drawing it. “One dragon or one hundred, we are here to protect Whiterun. Let’s go, men. Keep your eyes sharp,” Irileth commanded, before hurrying towards the tower.

Sterlas took a deep breath and drew his sword. “Let’s go kill a dragon, Casil,” he said, trying his best to sound confident. He looked to her and tried to give her best assured smile, but even then Casil could see the fear in his eyes.

She swallowed hard, nodding as she let fire ignite in her hands. The two of them rushed after the rest of the guards.

The guards had spread out around the tower, approaching it cautiously as they tried to figure out where their target was.

A guard came stumbling out of the tower. “He’s still here!” They cried, voice hoarse. “It grabbed Geilmar and Brarknir when they tried to run- I lost sight of it- I don’t know where it went, but it has to be around here somewhere-” The man began.

A sudden snarl and a howling blast of ice cut him off. Under the cover of darkness, the dragon had circled back around, and before most could spot it it had taken a steep dive down, coating the tower with another thick layer of ice. The guard was frozen solid where he stood. 

Casil quickly moved and ducked down behind some of the tower rubble as the dragon ascended back into the sky with a mighty roar. Sterlas quickly joined her, trying to help her spot where the dragon had taken off too. She caught a glint of its ice-white scales in the  moonlight as it circled back around. Carefully, she pointed it out to Sterlas, staying in cover as she waited for the monster to come back down. The guards quickly tried to spot it themselves and position themselves, but many did not see it in time. The dragon dove down again, blitzing the ground with a stream of ice and frost. Casil stood up from her cover, hurling a pair of fireballs at it as it passed by. One fireball whizzed past the monster entirely, fizzling out in the night sky while the other only managed to graze a wing, leaving a shower of sparks across the white leathery webbing before fading out as well. Casil dropped back down behind cover as the dragon took off again, making a face. Sterlas watched as the arrows from the guard’s bows did just as poorly, none of them finding their mark or sticking.

The dragon let out a throaty laugh, sounding like the deep rumble of a breaking glacier. The dragon made a sudden turn, steering sharply to head back to the tower. Casil’s eyes widened in panic. It was coming right towards them. The two of managed to jump back over the rocks just in time for the monster to land near where they had been, making the earth shake below it. The beast’s mighty head raised up, twisting around to look at Sterlas as he rushed out from behind his cover to attack. Sterlas made a quick swing for the monster’s wing. The sword cut through some of the webbing, but even then the dragon seemed disinterested. With little effort, it extended its wing out sharply, slamming it into Sterlas’s chest with enough force to knock him back a few feet.

Sterlas winced. He began to sit up before he felt the icy chill of ice next to him. Narrowly, he managed to roll out of the way, just missing a sudden geyser of ice that jutted up out of the ground where he’d just been.

“ _ Thuri du hin sil ko Sovengarde! _ ” The dragon roared, spreading his wings out wide. The guards tried to move in on him, but again their arrows largely just  bounced off of his scales. The beast chuckled, clearly amused by their meager attempts to slay him.

Casil looked to Sterlas, but she didn’t have time to worry about him. She saw electricity crackle around the dragon’s form, filling the air with the smell of burned ozone before a sudden blast of blizzard-like wind ripped through the surrounding area, raining razor-sharp ice shards down at frightening speeds. Casil’s eyes widened, and she threw herself down behind the nearest piece of rock. She threw up a mage shield, but it certainly wasn’t enough to stop all of the ice. She could feel permafrost bite at her fingers and exposed skin, and a few of the large ice spikes found themselves embedded in her leg. She let out a choked cry of pain, reaching down to grab at the wound.

The dragon took off with a mighty beat of its wings, sending debris and frost flying in all directions. The beast circled up to land on top of the tower, sending some of the loose rock cascading down. It raised his head up, puffing its scaly chest out pridefully. “ _ Zu’u Mirmulnir! Krif krin. Pruzah! _ ” It rumbled, inhaling before releasing a mighty stream of ice from its maw.

Casil pulled a bloody shard of ice out of her leg, pushing the pain aside as she turned her attention to the dragon. She hurled another fireball up at Mirmulnir, and this time the attack landed and nailed him in the face. The dragon snarled, his face jerking to the side and sending the stream of ice off to the side and away from a handful of guards he’d been aiming at. Mirmulnir growled lowly, his bright blue eyes snapping angrily to Casil as if she’d personally offended him. Casil threw another fireball, and this one landed between his eyes. He grimaced, his lips drawing back to flash off rows of razor-sharp teeth. To her surprise, he chuckled and shook the embers from his snout before spreading his giant wings out. He took to the sky once more, and electricity crackled around his body.

Casil managed to roll around the other side of the rock, pressing as close to it as she could. Ice rained down from above, crashing against the stone and the ground around her with a deafening thunder. She waited until the ground had stopped shaking before pushing herself back up, quickly finding the dragon up in the sky before throwing another ball of fire at him.

Her attack missed, and the dragon ignored it this time. He circled around to rain a blizzard down at some of the remaining guards, and Casil had a brief moment to take in the damage around her.

Ice shards ranging from a few inches to a full foot jutted out of the ground, and most of the earth around the tower was at least coated in frost, if not a inch or two of ice. Guards lay scattered under several layers of ice, and only a few with Irileth remained standing. 

Casil pursed her lips, leaning against the rock. Things weren’t going well. Her orange eyes darted across the field. She couldn’t spot Sterlas either. If he was one of the bodies under the ice, it was too thick to tell. She shook that thought out of her mind. She didn’t want to think that Sterlas  _ could  _ be one of those bodies.

Casil focus fire between her hands, watching the dragon as he circled around again. She drew on her deep pool of magicka, holding the flame between her hands until she was certain of her shot. She hurled the giant ball as Mirmulnir flew near. The fire nailed into his side, making him hiss in pain. Quickly, he turned and headed towards Casil.

“You are brave.  _ Bahlaan hokoron _ ,” he growled. He tucked his wings in, diving down before taking a deep inhale. 

Casil braced herself, but instead of releasing a stream of ice the dragon was knocked off course by sudden flash of fur. The dragon snarled in pain as claws dug into his maw, dragging down his scales. The dragon managed to land, staggering before he violently shook his head as Sterlas tried to get a swipe in at his eye with his claws. Apparently, he’d given up on the sword after the first swing, but before he could get in a good shot as a werewolf Mirmulnir shook him off. Sterlas landed on the ground, wincing but righting himself quickly.

Mirmulnir shook some of the blood off his snout, raising his head up with another chuckle. “I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!” He laughed, scales rattling. 

Casil threw another fireball at him before he could act again. The attack hit him in the chest, drawing his attention to Casil again - and away from Sterlas. Sterlas used the opening to bound back over, leaping up onto the fallen stones so he could make a jump at Mirmulnir’s face. Once more, he latched onto the beast’s snout, and the full weight of his attack pulled the dragon over and onto his side with a roar of anger. 

Casil looked to the remaining guards and Irileth, making a motion with her hands in hopes they would hurry over while the dragon was down.

Mirmulnir shook his head violently again, trying to get Sterlas off as he tried to push himself back up. Sterlas held on, digging his claws into Mirmulnir’s nostrils to hold on. The dragon’s tail lashed from side to side, keeping many of the guards back. The guards raised their bows, trying to take shots while he was mostly still.

Sterlas dug his claws in deeper before releasing one nostril, lashing out with another swipe to Mirmulnir’s eyes. The blow landed, and Mirmulnir let out a howl of agony as the werewolf’’s claws sunk in. He suddenly jerked forward, charging in the direction of the tower in hopes of crushing Sterlas against the stone to make him fall off. Sterlas whipped his head around, and with a great haul he managed to pull himself up on the dragon’s face. He ran up the length of the dragon’s face before jumping down to the dragon’s back and off just in time for the dragon to slam full force into the tower. The tower shuddered and finally gave out, raining giant stones down onto the monster below. Mirmulnir snarled in pain as the giant stones crushed into his scales, making even the mighty beast buckle under their weight. He tried to shake them off, blindly releasing a stream of ice from his maw.

Casil winced as  the ice grazed her, but she was determined to finish this while the monster was trapped. She pushed forward, limping towards the pinned dragon. She could faintly see it try to get out from under an avalanche of stone, its tail still thrashing around from where it remained relatively free. He was riddled with arrows, and blood poured down his face from the gouges Sterlas had given him. Sterlas was making his route back to attack again, but the dragon’s eye was locked on Casil.

The fire between Casil’s hands burned brighter, and at last she released it. Unable to get out of the way, the fire made contact in a great explosion of embers and flame. The dragon let out another roar of pain, before his remaining eye went wide.

“ _ Dovahkiin? _ ” The dragon suddenly hissed as his head began to fall. “No!” The word came out as a pained hissed, before his head hit the stones with a resounding thud.

Casil did not get a chance to question if the beast was finally dead.

Casil felt a unfamiliar tugging sensation in the pit of her chest. The world seemed to tunnel vision onto the dragon, who’s scales had started to flake off with a bright red-orange glow. Casil took a single step forward and staggered, and for a moment she swore she could see a golden-purple wind exit the decaying frame of the dragon. It whirled towards her, hitting her with a force that knocked the breath out of her lungs. Casil’s eyes went wide, unable to catch her breath as she was filled with a indescribable sensation. A flood of power, of energy, of  _ life.  _ Everything around her spun, and her skin felt like pins and needles through the bite of ice. She could feel every hair on her body stand on end, and for a brief moment it felt like she’d woken anew. 

When at last the sensation had faded, the dragon’s body was nothing more than a few

sorry lengths of sinew and bone.

Casil reached up and grabbed her chest, falling to her knees, as she stared wide-eyed at the skeleton. Sterlas bounded over to her in worry, his disgusting wet nose immediately smashed into Casil’s face until she managed to reach up to place a hand on his head to assure him it was alright. 

Irileth and the handful of remaining guards slowly approached, a look of awe and uncertainty on the faces of those without closed helmets.

Sterlas looked at them, ears pinning back on his head before crouched down next to Casil in hopes they wouldn’t turn on him. Casil reached up to hold Sterlas’s fur, looking to the others with a sort of baffled look.

For a moment, the guards couldn’t seem to decide on what to do. Between the dead dragon, the werewolf, and whatever it was that Casil had just gone through…

The later won out.

“You… you absorbed the dragon’s soul,” a guard whispered after shakily managing to light another torch. 

Casil furrowed her brow in confusion, wrapping her arms around Sterlas’s thick neck for support. 

“Only the dragonborn are supposed to be able to absorb the souls of dragons,” another guard said lowly, shifting his weary eyes to the werewolf and then to Casil.

“Then… perhaps she  _ is  _ dragonborn?” The first guard said.

One of the few other guards gave the other two men an angry look as he shifted to check on the fallen. “You don’t believe those old myths, do you?” he grumbled. “Besides, she’s a wood elf. Those are  _ nordic  _ myths!” 

“But the dragons are back!” The first man called. “What else would you call what she just did?”

Two of the other guards shook their heads, giving Casil and Sterlas a wide berth anyways to go tend to the wreckage of the tower.

Sterlas finally pulled Casil to her feet. The guards didn’t seem like they were willing to tangle with him right now, and it should have at least been obvious that he was with Casil. Casil glanced from  the guards to Irileth, trying to steady her breathing.

Irileth stood on one of the giant stones of the tower, sheathing her sword as she looked down at the skeletal remains of the dragon. After a moment, she looked back. “All I know is that there was a dragon, and there isn’t anymore. We have slain it. And that means that dragons can be killed. That’s enough for me,” she said gruffly, hopping down from the rock. “I want some of you to stay here and keep watch over the fort. Salvage what you can. I will send a dispatch to help you.” She looked to Sterlas and Casil, opening her mouth before pausing when she finally got a good look at Sterlas. “Is… is that-”

Casil waved her hand at Irileth tiredly, giving the werewolf a pat on the side to hopefully show that he was friendly. She started to walk, but Sterlas pushed his head into her back, making her stumble over. He caught her and threw her onto his back with ease before continuing down the path, letting Casil sit on his shoulders. 

Irileth watched with a bit of shock, her jaw dropped. Slowly, she let out a long sigh, before shaking her head and following after the other two. “We need to report to the Jarl. I hope you don’t mind accompanying me for that. We can find you board in Dragonsreach for the night too, of course, assuming…” she trailed off, trying to find the right word for the werewolf. “The…  _ dog…  _ doesn’t… cause problems…” She cleared her throat. “That  _ is  _ your companion from earlier, right?”

Casil nodded, causing Sterlas to glare at her a bit. She shrugged at him. It wasn’t like she was left with much of a choice. She pat his head, hoping Irileth would understand that as some sort of reassuring symbol of peacefulness on Sterlas’s behalf. If she got it, Irileth didn’t say anything. She just continued to give Casil and Sterlas a look of concern, and at that stage Casil was too tired to care. As long as Sterlas wasn’t hurt, she didn’t care.

 

 

The only time silence was broken was as the three made their way up the stairs to Dragonsreach. The otherwise clear sky suddenly split with a earth-shaking rumble that rolled across the sky like thunder. “ _ Dovahkiin _ !” 

The voice shook people from their beds and sent birds screaming and dogs barking, but nobody was as afraid by the sudden call as Casil was. She almost jumped off of Sterlas’s back, and immediately a sinking feeling in her gut told her that whatever had just happened had set something in motion that she wasn’t going to be able to stop. 

Casil tangled her fingers tightly into Sterlas’s shaggy fur, making him wince at the tightness of her grip. His ears pinned down against his head, trying to turn back and look at her once the last echoes of the voice had gone. 

Casil wasn’t looking. Her eyes remained turned to the sky, even after Irlieth and Sterlas started to move again to get inside as quickly as they could. Something was happening.

She should have just stayed at home.

 

 

The doors to Dragonsreach opened up with the greatest of hesitation, allowing Irileth, Casil and Sterlas inside of the grand hall.

Casil had been hoping that few would still be up, but no thanks to that loud noise, most people were nervously lingering around the edges of the main hall. Many of those out there, including the maids and a few children, were in their nightgowns, clearly having just awoken. People pressed back into their rooms as Sterlas passed by, and she could here amazed and horrified whispering of children from the balcony above. She glanced up at the two young children, possibly the Jarl’s own, who were peering out from between the balcony bars. They shrunk back when Casil’s gaze fell on them, looking a tad frightened.

The Jarl stiffened as the three approached, and the guards on either side of the Jarl put their hands on their weaponry.

Irileth waved the guards down, giving Sterlas one more uneasy glance before she walked up and knelt down in front of the Jarl. Sterlas stopped behind her, leaning over so Casil could slide off of his back.

“Is… is it dead?” Jarl Balgruuf asked, tense.

‘No, it’s alive and we just ran back here. Of course it’s dead,’ Casil signed, feeling a little snappy with her exhaustion.

“Yes, it is. The watchtower is mostly destroyed and will need to be rebuilt, but the dragon was slain. Its bones lay in the tower ruins. I left the guards who survived to begin cleaning, and sent more to relieve them and assist with the efforts already,” Irileth said, before standing up.

Sterlas shook himself off before his body contorted inhumanly, his bones cracking and resettling as he returned back to his human form. The children on the balcony squealed, pattering back to their rooms at the sight. Sterlas couldn’t help but chuckle before he stretched, making his whole body creak just a bit more. “Let’s not make fightin’ those a habit, Casil,” he said, pushing his dreads back into place. “I’m gonna be feelin’ it for weeks.”

Jarl Balgruuf slowly relaxed back into his seat once Sterlas had returned back to his normal form, albeit he looked a tad disturbed by the whole transformation and realization that the man was a werewolf. “What happened?” He questioned, clearly interested.

Irileth glanced to Casil, seeing if she wanted to explain. 

Well, if she was  _ apparently  _ the resident dragon expert… Casil lifted her hands, a bit sluggish with exhaustion, but she was willing to explain.

“It was hiding in the night sky. It attacked with ice, and not fire like the first one we encountered. Casil says it spoke some stuff in the dragon language, but she doesn’t know all of the words. She wants to translate ‘em later. Says its name sounded like it was… uh…” Sterlas began before he trailed off, squinting at her as she spelled out his name.

Casil glared at him, slowing her hand motions down for him to read.

“Mal… no..  _ Mir…  _ Mirmulnir. Look Casil, I don’t speak none of that crazy dragon shit alright? I ain’t got any idea how that shit’s spelled,” he whined in defense. 

Casil rolled her eyes and continued.

“Uh- we slayed it by crushin’ it under the tower. Some weird stuff happened after it died though. The guards said they think she might be uh… dragonborn? Something like that. When we killed the dragon, it just crumbled to a skeleton and somethin’ jumped from the dragon into her.”

Whispers immediately erupted from the bystanders in the hall, making Casil stop and look around in unease. People talking about myths, people saying it was crazy talk, people scalding the children for still being up. The steward started to get into a argument with one of the guards next to Jarl Balgruuf, and he quickly stopped the discussion.

“Enough. It doesn’t matter if they are or are  not the dragonborn,” Jarl Balgruuf said shortly, making the hall hush down again.

Casil flinched and scooted a bit closer to Sterlas, feeling relieved for once that she had someone else with her that she trusted. If she’d been alone like she used to be, she’d have felt too exposed.

Jarl Balgruuf paused, looking Casil over for a moment. The look made Casil shifted her weight, feeling like he was expecting something out of her. “If you are the dragonborn though, it would explain why the Greybeards called.”

Casil’s lips pursed tightly. The Greybeards. She’d heard of them before in her travels through Skyrim, but she’d never investigated them or paid them any mind. But she knew enough about them to know that the implications of this weren’t good.

“You should answer their calling, if you truly believe it was for you. No doubt their call is of great importance,” Jarl Balgruuf said with a firm nod. “Now, onto the matter of what we  _ do  _ know.” He got to his feet. “Without your help, I doubt we would have known about the dragon in time and, perhaps, we would not have been able to kill it either. For that, I thank you on behalf of all of Whiterun. The hold is in your debt for your heroism,” he said, nodding his head. “It is a great honor to have you at our sides. Now, I am sure you are exhausted.” He motioned to one of the maids still working around the hall. “See to it that these two have the proper room for the night. They deserve the best rest they can get,” he said, nodding his head to Casil and Sterlas before turning to walk up the stairs in the back of the room. “Now, if you would excuse me. I need to attend to other matters now.”

Irileth turned and nodded to Casil and Sterlas before following after Jarl Balgruuf, a few others who seemed to have stayed up to await the news following in tow as well.

Casil looked up to Sterlas with a soft sigh. Sterlas glanced at her, before shooting her a grin. They’d made it through, hadn’t they?


	6. VI - Hahnuue - Vu [Dreams - Dawn]

“ _[Ahrk het Zu’u mindol daar hi aal neh daal. Ved vokun lost daal vul lien. Lost hi bo fah do daar?](x)_ _ ”  _

They new that voice. The Traitor. The one in the pit, the one that writhes, the one with empty eyes and oily chains. A nightmare they had not missed. 

Branches of burnt trees reached up and formed a lattice of otherworldly knotwork, making a mockery of a aviary above them. Stark white light from a unknown source far in the empty void above creeping shadows down onto the dust below, framing the pit of sizzling black acid where the Traitor basked. 

The beast turned his mighty head, the multitude of eyes that speckled everywhere but where eyes belonged twitching and turning to watch them all at once, expectant for an answer.

And still, as always, they gave no answer. What answer did they have to give, for a question they could not understand?

The Traitor let out a great sigh, his head falling to the earth below in a cloud of pale particulates. 

“ _[Ahrk mulhaan, hi tinvaak nid. Mindoli fiik daal zu’u.](x)_ ” His tone sounded pained, disappointed.

They shifted in discomfort. Why were they irritated? Was it at them? They hesitated, trying to ignore the empty gaze the Traitor gave them. No response. They finally turned. A way out of this nightmare. To anywhere, anything but this.

“ _[Hi haalvut med hi het,](x)_ ” he said wistfully.

They paused in their examination of the cage wall, turning to look back at him again. Tentacles writhed over what they could only assume was his body. He shifted, acid making a sickening slurping noise as he did so.

“ [ _ Zu’u vahzah daar vod? Lost Zu’u meyz daar krent hahdrimaan daar Zu’u sahvot hi  _ _ nahlaas? _ _ ”  _ ](x) His chuckle was pitiful. He strained at his bindings, the tendrils and chains that bound him holding fast. He tensed, before giving up and falling back into the pit in a splash of acid that hissed and ate at the things around him.

They made no response. They never had any response to him. Just a struggle to get away. For once, he made no sign of aggression. 

The faint glimmer of eyes in his sockets made them tense and hold their ground, pressed against the side of the cage in hopes that it might give away into another dream. 

“ _[Rok fen du Lein us daar horvut kren. Nunon ruz aal daar pah meyza oblaana. Nii fen pah kos nahlot ruz.](x)_ _ ” _

The world warped around them. The trees stretched further up, reaching their blackened hands into the empty sky before it turned a bloody, violent red. Fire rained down around them, setting trees ablaze. Their eyes saw the twisted forms of men and horses streaking through the blaze, charred and burning. The remains of buildings like their own skeletons stretched out in the ash. The smell of burnt flesh. A great, black shadow, and smoldering red eyes.

They wanted to wake up. They wanted this to just go away.

The Traitor watched them, the embers reflected in black eyes.

“ _[Hi drey koraav rok.](x)_ _ ” _

Enough of this. Just replaying the things they didn’t want to recall. They were just stressed. It was just a nightmare.

“ _[Ruz hi fen mindok tol tiid maltiid.](x)_ ”

The beat of wings. The sting of ash and smoke in their eyes. The pounding of their heart. A sense of desperation and panic. Hopelessness.

“ _[Mu aal stin us Zu’u koraav hi. Paak.](x)_ ”

The world spun around them. The thunderous sound of fire made their ears ring, and yet the Traitor’s voice still came through loud and clear as the only distinguishable noise above the cacophony.

“ [ _ Hi lost paar fahdon, orin hi neh tinvaak. _ _ ” _ ](x)

The rushing sound of something great crashing down. Everything becoming too loud, too inescapable. The shouts and noises of every animal and man they had ever heard. The scalding burn of fire on their face. Too much, too fast.

  
[_Zu’u dreh ni laan dira_ _._](x)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahrk het Zu’u mindol daar hi aal neh daal. Ved vokun lost daal vul lien. Lost hi bo fah do daar? - And here I thought that you would never return. A black shadow has returned to darken the world. Have you come because of that?
> 
> Ahrk mulhaan, hi tinvaak nid. Mindoli fiik daal zu’u. - And still, you say nothing. My thoughts reflect and return to me.
> 
> Hi haalvut med hi het - You feel like you are here.
> 
> Zu’u vahzah daar vod? Lost Zu’u meyz daar krent hahdrimaan daar Zu’u sahvot hi nahlaas?” - Am I truly that gone? Have I become so broken minded that I believe you are alive?
> 
> Rok fen du Lein us daar horvut kren. Nunon ruz aal daar pah meyza oblaana. Nii fen pah kos nahlot ruz. - He will devour the world before this trap breaks. Only then may this all come to an end. It will all be silent then.
> 
> Hi drey koraav rok. - You have seen him.
> 
> Ruz hi fen mindok tol tiid maltiid. - Then you must know that time is short
> 
> Mu aal stin us Zu’u koraav hi. Paak. - We might be free before I see you. Shame.
> 
> Hi lost paar fahdon, orin hi neh tinvaak. - You were a desired companion, even if you never spoke.
> 
> Zu'u dreh ni laan dira. - I don’t want to die.


	7. VII - Mindol [Thought]

The sound of Maehaur’s hooves thundered across the wide open tundra, drowning out any other sound of the outdoors around Casil. The air was frigid against her cheeks, even with the sun shining overhead, but it helped to keep her awake. Maehaur galloped through a puddle that had collected after the last rainstorm, sending water in all directions. Casil could make out a herd of elk in the distance, their heads raised and ears perked as they watched Casil. 

No matter how open and free the tundra normally made her feel, the pressure of what had gone down a few days prior was still weighing heavily on Casil’s mind. It felt like a cage was crushing her lungs, and at no point could she feel like she could relax. She hadn’t felt this tense since she’d arrived in Skyrim. 

Her eyes darted to look up at the sky. Nobody had seen any sign of another dragon since the Western Watchtower had fallen, but that didn’t make Casil feel much safer. She knew for certain that there was at least one other dragon. The dragon they had seen at Helgen was not the one they’d slain. If nothing else, he certainly was haunting her mind. Sterlas and Casil had heard rumors of other dragon sightings from other stretches of Skyrim, but none could be confirmed. 

Casil’s fingers tightened on the reigns, feeling them ache from the cold. Without the clouds to trap the heat, the air was much colder than it had been. There was still ice in puddles and frost on leaves in the shadows of hills and stones, adding to the firm crunch of the frozen ground as Maehaur ran. 

Rumors about the return of the dragons and the surfacing of the dragonborn had started to float through Whiterun. While nobody but a handful of the guards and those present at Dragonsreach seemed to know that Casil was the potential dragonborn, Casil still felt like everyone’s eyes were watching her specifically for something. The Greybeards had not spoken again, but similarly rumors of the thundering call they’d issued out shortly after Milmulnir’s death cropped up amongst the other gossip. 

Casil narrowed her eyes a bit as Maehaur jumped a fallen stone wall before Casil steered him towards a small pile of ruins atop a low hill. The horse’s gallop slowed until they reached the top, where Casil finally slid off of his back. Maehaur gave a snort, exhaling a huge cloud of condensation before shaking his mane as Casil gave him a pat on the side of the neck. She tied him off to a sad, scraggly tree that had tried to grow out from under one of the heavy stone blocks that jutted from the frozen earth before climbing up onto one of the stones that had fallen on its side. It was cold, but at least in the sunlight the worst of the frost had melted off of it.

The herd of elk bounded across the landscape on the horizon, sending sparkling sprays of water into the air as they trampled through puddles. Casil scanned the horizon to where the elk had been, and she could make out a large brown mass running in her direction. Sterlas, with something in his mouth. No doubt he was what had spooked the elk, even though it looked like he had found something else to sate his hunger.

Casil pulled her knees up to her chest, watching Sterlas until he at last lumbered up the hill with a rabbit clutched in his jaws. His tail wagged back and forth a few times before he plopped down next to her, immediately digging into his lunch.

Casil sighed, turning her attention back out to the surrounding wilderness.

The Civil War continued on. Ulfric Stormcloak had survived the attack on Helgen

apparently, or at least so the Stormcloaks claimed. Either way, it was enough to continue to drive the rebel front. If it was a lie, it didn’t matter, because the war was continuing as if the interruption had never happened. Casil could just continue with what she had been doing. The demand for weapons and metal would continue, and perhaps with the threat of dragons that demand would spike even higher. And if she really wanted, maybe she could save up and make a break for it as soon as she had enough coin to move elsewhere. Or quite literally, Elsweyr. That  had always been her backup location if she had to leave Skyrim. All of this could be just a past chapter in her life if she wanted it to. 

Casil glanced at the werewolf next to her. Sterlas ripped off a leg of the rabbit, crunching the small bones in his massive jaws with ease. Would Sterlas come with her? She wasn’t sure The two made a point of not sharing their pasts with each other, but as far as she could tell Sterlas had been in Skyrim for  most of his life. Would he want to move to somewhere so hot so far away? Maybe she’d have to ask him, just out of curiosity. Just in case. Or she could just run and start fresh again. That was how she ended up in Skyrim anyways.

Casil sighed and buried her face into her arms, the breeze making the fur on the edge of her hood dance. There was no way she was the dragonborn. That just didn’t make  _ sense.  _ The dragonborn was a nordic hero. The dragonborn were imperial kings. The dragonborn were not a bosmer necromancer. The dragonborn was a strong hero who lead people to do the right thing, and everyone sang songs of their praise, and remembered them for ages in legends and stories sung by bards in crowded taverns. 

She watched the clouds roll across the sky. On the horizon, pillars of clouds forewarned more bad weather. Winter would be there soon. People would hunker down during the worst of the weather, and even the Civil War would calm for a few months as snow fell and made travel difficult. And the road up to the monastery where the Greybeards lived would certainly have to be impossible to traverse, as far as Casil knew. So even if she  _ did  _ want to go up there…

The sound of rabbit bones breaking was soon replaced with a different sort of creak and tear of muscles and bone, before Sterlas joined Casil on top of the stone in his human form. Casil glanced over at him as he wiped his mouth before digging in a pouch at his side for his toothpick.

“Still thinkin’?” He asked simply, his gaze focused on the horizon.

Casil nodded, looking out as well. The elks had stopped somewhere further down the valley, gathered around some trees as the grazed in the grass before it was covered in snow.

Sterlas hummed, digging the toothpick between some of his yellow teeth. “What ya thinkin’?”

‘I don’t like it,’ Casil signed with a frown.

Sterlas couldn’t help but chuckle. “What part?”

Casil threw him a look. ‘All of it? What part of it am I supposed to like? Being called up  by a bunch of old monks? The possibility of being some sort of legendary nordic hero?’ She signed, looking exasperated at the thought.

Sterlas let out a booming laugh, his voice carrying across the open field. “Aw, little necromancer bosmer Casil doesn’t like the idea of being a hero?”

Casil violently shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to fight more dragons, and I don’t want to be a hero. I’m not hero material. And no hero ever gets to go back to being how they used to be when everything is done. Did you ever notice that? Every hero’s life is changed for the worst when they become heroes!’ she signed, making exaggerated facial expressions to help convey her feeling on the matter. ‘We hardly got out of the first fight alive. Can you imagine more? Can you imagine people calling me a hero? We were murdering bandits for metal so I could sell it to be made into weapons so people could kill each other so I can collect the metal and do it again! What kind of hero is that? It is not one.’

Sterlas chuckled, watching Casil’s wild hand motions in amusement. He picked a piece of bone out of his teeth. “Well, what if ya ain’t got any choice?”

‘I always have a choice,’ Casil said blandly, her face flat.

“Don’t other heroes say that?” 

Casil shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I do not have to be a hero. I can just walk away.’

“So are ya?”

Casil hesitated, before scrunching her face angrily at Sterlas. She gave a violent shrug, slapping the palms of her hands down onto the surface of the rock before huffing and glaring out at the horizon line again. The elk had moved on higher up one of the hills, continuing to graze.

Sterlas leaned forward, bringing one leg up onto the rock as well. “Well, I don’t wanna push ya into anything ya don’t wanna do, but…” The toothpick clicked against his teeth before he pulled it out. “If ya really are the dragonborn, and if ya really are this-” he made a waving motion with his hands - “‘grand hero’ they’re all talkin’ about, then what do ya think will happen if ya  _ don’t  _ wanna do anythin’?”

Casil bit the inside of her lower lip. She’d wondered that herself. ‘I don’t even know what this would all even entail,’ Casil signed in return. ‘I think I have a book about it back home, but…’ she scrunched her brow. ‘All I know is that the dragonborn is a hero, and can absorb dragon souls or something. Something about saving the world and dragons. Not exactly descriptive,’ she signed. 

“Savin’ the world ain’t somethin’ ya can just walk away from,” Sterlas said, frowning.

‘If that’s  _ true.  _ They’re just legends,’ Casil retorted.

“Ya, and so was dragons. And look how that turned out,” he said. He dug into his pocket and pulled out one of the dragon’s teeth he’d plucked from Milmulnir’s skull a few days prior, tossing it to her.

Casil managed to catch the six-inch fang in her hand, giving it a uneasy look. She sighed, turning it in her hands. The dragons were real - and Sterlas was right. She never would have believed in that a month ago. And yet, the fang in her hand was pulled from the maw of the dragon Mirmulnir, who they’d slain only days prior, who’s soul Casil had apparently absorbed. 

‘Why me?’ Casil signed after setting the fang down next to her.

Sterlas shrugged, picking at his teeth again. “Maybe them Greybeards will know. Seems like if anyone has answers for ya, Casil, it’s ‘em.”

Casil slowly let herself flop back onto the rock, stretching out across the cold surface. She stared up, squinting as the bright sun filtered past the frill of fur around the edge of her vision. She was not cut out for that. What would people say to her? What would people  _ think  _ of her? It had taken her years to get people to trust her normally. By looks alone, she wasn’t exactly trustworthy looking. And from what people had been saying, people had been imaging a strong nordic man with a sword. 

Yup, that was what she was. A strong, beefy, powerful nordic man with a big sword and a shield, standing triumphantly on top of a dragon they’d just slain. Like the statue of Talos in the Cloud District in Whiterun. He was a dragonborn or something too, right? That was what people imagined.

Not a 4’10”, underweight, necromantic bosmer woman. Not the skeevy vulture who picked at the corpses of the dead for her earnings and had no quarrel with murdering a random man for his house. Casil lined up much better as a villain of some flavor, not a hero. Anyone who wanted to spend a few minutes really looking into Casil’s personality or spent any time looking around for what she might of done in the past might be able to dig up plenty of unsavory rumors about her, none of which would be what would be expected of a upstanding, world-saving individual.

She shouldn’t have gone to warn Whiterun. She should have minded her own business and stayed at home. Maybe she wouldn’t have found out then about the possibility of being a dragonborn. Whiterun would have  _ somehow  _ figured out how to kill the dragon  _ eventually _ , right? Maybe someone else would have been chosen or whatever, or however this worked.

Sterlas leaned over her, blocking the sun out of her eyes for a minute. “Casil. If ya really  _ are  _ the dragonborn, and ya really  _ are  _ supposed to save the world, I don’t think ya can just ignore that.”

Casil squinted a bit, before sighing. She pulled her hood shut, rolling onto her side in displeasure. 

Sterlas rolled his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and rolling her back over. “Look kid, I don’t like it either. I don’t want to go scrap with any more dragons either, but it ain’t just like… ya know, a little thing. If this is about savin’ the world, that ain’t just somethin’ ya can walk away from.”

Casil grimaced. That didn’t make her feel any better. No, not even remotely. ‘Maybe someone else can do it,’ she signed, letting go of her hood so she could peer out at Sterlas.

“Well, if there is, then sure,” he said with a shrug. “I ain’t gonna hold ya to that. But we ain’t gonna find out unless we go ask the people who seem to know what’s goin’ on. But if there  _ is  _ someone else, and ya give this up, ya won’t get any of the gold or treasure from it,” he said before pulling away from Casil.

She sat up, letting her hood fall down. ‘I don’t want treasure or gold if it means having to do this.’

“What about fame? Ya’d have ya name sung in songs forever,” Sterlas teased, wiggling the toothpick at her.

Casil made a face. ‘That’s what I want. For my quiet life to be ruined.’

Sterlas snorted. “Well, there ain’t gonna be another chance like this. Divine know death is lurkin’ around every corner out here, and things ain’t always gonin’ to be easy. But, I can’t blame ya if ya wanna just die a borin’ death to some bear or somethin’,” he said with a exaggerated sigh. 

‘I thought you didn’t want to fight more dragons,’ Casil replied, lifting her chin up pridefully. 

“I don’t. But if shit’s all hangin’ on ya shoulders Casil, I hate to say it  but I ain’t gonna let you skirt it,” he said. “World ain’t gonna save itself, apparently.”

Casil looked at him, upturning her lip in a bit of frustration. Her gaze dipped to the dirt, watching the remaining frost on some leaves sparkle in the sunlight. 

Sterlas sighed, before getting up. “C’mon kid. Sun’s gonna start goin’ down. We still got a ways to go home, right?” He reached down and gave Casil a firm pat on her shoulder. “I’m sure the world can wait for ya answer, right? Ain’t like the Greybeards came down here to get ya, so it must not be  _ that  _ pressin’.”

Casil glanced up at him, before nodding and sliding off the rock. She reached over and picked up Milmulnir’s fang, moving to hand it  back out to Sterlas.

Sterlas pushed it back. “Nah kid. Ya keep that one. Sleep on it, right? If nothin’ else, it’ll remind ya that ya killed a dragon. The first dragon probably anyone has killed in thousands of years!” 

Casil managed a smile, looking down at the tooth in her hand. She carefully tucked it into a pouch on her belt, nodding. ‘Nothing like killing the first member of a species people haven’t seen in thousands of years, right?’

Sterlas snorted, moving to wait next to Maehaur. “Hey. It ain’t like we just killed ‘em out of cold blood. Damn lizard attacked us first,” he reminded Casil with a shake of his finger, sticking his toothpick back into his own bag.

Casil moved to untie Maehaur, shrugging with a look thoughtfulness. She pulled herself back up onto Maehaur’s back, scooting so Sterlas could jump up as well. 

Sterlas reached out and ruffled Casil’s hair, messing it up. “Ya got time. Ya stress much more and ya hair will just turn white!” He laughed.

  
  


Casil’s fingers traced the spines of row after row of books that lined the shelves of her library tower. The sound of rain pattering against the roof above made Casil want to just curl up and nap in her bed instead, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. She’d managed to avoid looking through her shelves for the first two days after they’d gotten home, but finally she broke.

Her fingers stopped on a black leather-bound book with silver leafing. Casil pulled it off the shelf, turning it in her hands. A silver emblem of a dragon that matched the one used by the Empire embellished the front of the book. There it was. Casil exhaled. The Book of the Dragonborn. If any book she knew of might have any idea of what she would be expecting, or what being dragonborn even meant, this might be it.

Casil moved to sit down on a chair she’d crammed between two shelves, setting the book on her lap before flipping to the first page.

She didn’t know if she really wanted to make the trek to High Hrothgar to speak to the Greybeards. She still felt uncertain about any of this really being about her. The whole fight against Milmulnir still felt surreal. There had to have been a mistake. None of that could have happened, or people had to have been mistaken. 

But the possibility of real responsibility resting on her shoulders was… terrifying. Sterlas was right- if the fate of the world, whatever that meant, rested on her shoulders, and nobody else could take that mantle… as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just  _ run _ . She’d ran from plenty of problems before- running from problems was just what her family did, as far as she was concerned. But this…? 

This may not be something she could run from. And if she  _ did  _ try to run from it, the consequences could be catastrophic for all she knew. 

Had that stopped her before?

Casil turned the page, her shoulders falling a bit as she tried to focus on the text before her instead of her thoughts.

No. It hadn’t. The consequences of what happened to people besides herself had not concerned her before. So why was this any different? Was it because Sterlas was pushing her? He was the first serious friend she had as far as she was concerned. But she didn’t feel like that was the case.

Casil sighed and closed the book. She couldn’t concentrate. She got up and made her way to her room, dragging her feet along the way. Unceremoniously, she tossed the book onto the foot of her bed before throwing herself onto a empty section of bed, burying her face into the sheets with a stifled groan. 

Well, whatever her choice, she wasn’t going to bother with it right now. The weather wasn’t going to get any better, so until spring rolled around and the grips of winter let up she was staying put.

  
  


Winter hit with a vengeance. Blizzards made traveling near impossible, and Casil was happy she had decided to wait out winter to make her choice. But even with the poor weather, the Civil War continued, and a new horror lurked out in the storms.

Dragons. There were more. In the few times Casil traveled into the city to gather supplies, she heard rumors of the scaley beasts showing up here and there across Skyrim. How many  _ exactly  _ there were was unknown, but people were seeing them frequently enough to imply that there was at least a handful of them. Casil held her breath in hopes that maybe, just maybe, someone else would report the slaying of dragons, or another dragonborn, or  _ anything _ that might let her off the hook or better inform her decision.

A dragon had been slain. After great effort, a dragon to the north east near Windhelm had been slain by Ulfric’s men. At first, the feat had been met with great cheer and had, apparently, increased support for the rebel cause. But by the time Casil had heard of the incident at all, something strange had happened. The dragon’s skeleton vanished. And within a few days, the dragon had returned - alive and well. Though it was driven off a second time, it did not appear that the beast had stayed dead- something  that unsettled the population of Whiterun for understandable reasons.

And only made the dread in Casil’s heart grow deeper. Milmulnir’s skeleton remained where it had fallen in the fields outside of Whiterun. The watchtower had been cleaned up, but they had not had time to rebuild it before the weather had come in. But the skeleton had not moved either. Not even robbers had had the guts to walk up to it. And yet, unlike the skeleton of the dragon near Windhelm, Milmulnir had not gotten back up again. 

The dragon she’d slain remained dead. Nobody else seemed to have the same luck. And though very few people knew she could be the dragonborn, she could see the guards who had survived the battles watching her as she came and went from Whiterun. For once, their gaze truly unnerved her. It carried a different weight than what she was used to. She felt like they  _ expected  _ something from her.

For the first time in many, many years, Casil felt afraid of returning to Whiterun.

 

Casil watched the fire dance in the fireplace, a mud of mead in one hand. She rested her head back against the chair, hooking her foot on the bottom bar that ran the length of the large table that spanned the main living space of her house so she could lean back.

“Any plans, kiddo?” Sterlas asked as he came to join her, kicking a chair out before he plopped down with his own bottle of mead. Instead of pouring his into a mug, he just cracked the cork out of the top and took a huge swig.

Casil glanced at him, raising her brows before looking at her mug and throwing back a drink in response.

Sterlas grunted, resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand, eyeing the dark rings under Casil’s eyes. “Well, the dragon’s ain’t killin’ themselves apparently. We’re almost into First Seed. Winter ain’t gonna be around for much longer, Casil.”

She grimaced, not raising her eyes from the tarnished mug. She finished off its contents before tapping it against the side of the table, queuing one of her skeletons to come and fetch it from her. She used the short pause between the action and the skeleton’s arrival to formulate a response.

‘First good day in Rain’s Hand then. We head out to High Hrothgar. And pray to the Nine Divine that the Greybeards were looking for someone else,’ Casil said, letting out a sigh of resignation.

Sterlas couldn’t help but flash her a shit-eating grin. “Remember when I told ya not to make a habit of slayin’ dragons?” He teased, leaning back in his chair.

Casil looked at him tiredly. ‘Do you want me to go or not?’ Casil signed in defeat, pouting at him.

Sterlas gave out his barking laugh, making some of the decorations rattle against the wall. “Ya know i’m just flingin’ ya shit, kid.”

Casil dragged her hands down her face and slouched forward onto the table after letting her chair rock forward with a clunk. ‘Hopefully, I won’t have to slay may more of them.’

She could wish.

 

The 4th of Rain’s Hand was the first nice day of the month, which was much, much sooner than Casil had been hoping. With things ready to go, all that was left was for them to actually head out the following day once dawn broke. Casil had tried her best to worm her way out of her initial idea, but Sterlas stopped her from trying to delay the inevitable. Knowing her, she would push it off till the end of days- which for all either of them knew, could be soon.

Ivarstead would take a few days to reach. While the weather had been clear for about a week, it was still up in the mountains and would no doubt still require pushing through snow to reach. But it was the nearest town to the start of the seven thousand steps that lead up to High Hrothgar, and the only location Casil knew that would allow them to even access the Greybeard’s monastery.

With both of their horses packed, they set out at dawn. Snow had at least started to melt down on the roads, and with some luck would not have a chance to replenish on their way up to Ivarstead. But as the snow melted, it revealed eerie reminders of how things were changing.

Casil did not want to count how many charred remains of houses, carts and carriages they saw jutting up out of the snow like black skeletons. Dragons, no doubt. Other travelers they saw along the way showed the same nervousness. Dragons had returned, and the roads were no longer safe. The Civil War’s and Skyrim’s native dangers paled in comparison to the horrors that had cropped up at the end of fall, and already they had done their damage to the landscape of Whiterun.

Perhaps it was a cruel reminder of what was at stake if Casil backed out. Even as they traveled, the Book of the Dragonborn remained in her bag and continued to find its way into her hands, even after she’d finished reading it for the fourth or fifth time since winter had started. The answers it provided were not enough, and it left her with more questions than before. Most of the book had covered the Dragonborn emperors, the Imperials tasked with guarding the Dragonfires. That was not what Casil was, surely. She was a bosmer, pure and true. Her father and mother were bosmer, and their parents, and so-on. As far as she had understood from what little her father said about their history, he and Casil had been the first to leave Valenwood in many, many generations. They were Greenpact bosmer, at home in the deep Valenwood among the trees. Casil was no descendant or relative of the Empire’s royalty. And it was known that they had all died out a few decades before her birth. She was certain that her parents had been alive by the time the Oblivion Crisis had occured.

But it spoke of the nordic heros. The dragonborns who could absorb the power of the dragons themselves.

Like she had done.

And it left her with a ominous prophecy. 

  
  


_ “When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world _

_ When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped _

_ When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles _

_ When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls _

_ When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding _

_ The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn _ ”


	8. VIII - Alok [Rise]

Spring birds chirped in the upper branches of the birch trees around them, filling the air with their upbeat tunes.

Sterlas put his hands on his hips, leaning back as he surveyed the giant mountain that loomed ahead of them. Seven thousand steps stretched out before them, some of the stones only just barely peeking out from the snow.

“So,” Sterlas said after a moment, breaking the silence between the two. 

Casil glanced at him, arching a brow as she folded her arms across her chest.

Sterlas tilted his head to glance down at her from the corner of his eye. “Wanna cout ‘em all?”

Casil gave him a blank stare, before slugging him in the side. Her fist ineffectively bounced off of his leather armor, making him cackle loud enough to send the birds in the treetops scattering. Shaking her head, she strode forward to the foot of the stairs. ‘Let’s go. I want to be up there before it gets dark,’ she signed once her feet had hit the first stair.

Sterlas smirked. “Hey, we can do that and  _ still  _ be countin’. It’ll pass the time,” he chided.

Casil rolled her eyes, immediately cringing when Sterlas’s first step onto the trail was followed by a proudly announced ‘One!’

 

“Eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six…”

Casil ignored him, focusing on making sure her steps weren’t going to cause her to slip and fall back down the steep mountainside. 

 

“Two hundred and one, two hundred and two, two hundred and three…”

Casil shot him a glare, narrowing her eyes at him. Maybe she should have left him at the bottom of the mountain in Ivarstead with the horses.

 

“Five hundred and sixty-three, five hundred and sixty-four, five hundred and sixty-five…”

Casil glowered and made a motion for Sterlas to shut up for what felt like the five hundred and sixty-fifth time.

 

“One thousand! One seventh of the way there, Casil!”  
Sterlas’s myrrh was making Casil’s skin crawl. ‘I will feed you to a bear,’ she signed with certainty.

 

“Three thousand four hundred and eighty-”

Casil had enough. She dropped down and used as much of her weight as she could to push into Sterlas’s side, headbutting him below the ribs as she threw her whole body onto him. Sterlas burst into a laugh, stumbling and falling back into the snowdrift on the side of the path. Three thousand was a lot further than he’d been expecting to get.

“Ya never said I couldn’t count ‘em!” He laughed, bringing his arms up as Casil tried to

shovel two handfuls of snow down his armor.

Casil pouted at him, trying to bite back a smile of her own as she wrestled with his arms in vain. Sterlas grabbed his own handful of snow, managing to wrestle Casil to the side so he could shove the snowball down the back of her robes. Casil made a rather pitiful wail, rolling off of him to try to shake the snow out of her clothing just as a feral roar made the two of them freeze in their place.

A frost troll. Sterlas quickly pushed himself to his feet, moving in front of Casil protectively as the beast sized them up from a few feet up the path. It snorted out a stream of condensation angrily, pounding its fists on the ground in a territorial display before letting out another roar. Great. Casil didn’t hesitate to conjure fire up in her hands, looking for a way to dart around the troll. She’d managed to get herself this far, and while this would be a plenty convenient excuse to turn away…

Clearly displeased by Sterlas and Casil’s stubborness to leave, the troll lunged forward with a furious snarl, sending strands of spit in every direction.

Sterlas bolted in one direction his form warping and shifting before it hit the ground again. The troll followed him, running with help of its knuckles before lashing out to try to knock Sterlas to the side. Casil took the opportunity to throw a ball of fire at the beast. Her attack hit, sending a spray of sparks and burnt hair over its shoulder as the troll let out a howl of pain. Sterlas took the opening this time, pouncing onto the troll’s side. He managed to scramble up, trying to find a place to sink his teeth into. The troll let out a angry roar, reaching up to grab Sterlas off. The werewolf dug his claws into the troll’s flesh, leaving bloody gouges as the troll pried his form off. The gorilla-like creature gave Sterlas a furious look before hurling him into the snowbank as hard as he could, where Sterlas disappeared in a cloud of powdery snow and a tiny avalanche of previously settled snow. 

Casil tried to move around its flank as it focused on Sterlas, waiting until she’d managed to get to the part of the path they still had to progress up before throwing another fireball at the monster’s back. The troll staggered forward, spinning in frustration to the other intruder. Which, to Casil’s surprise and then horror, was not  _ her. _

A dark shadow suddenly passed in front of the sun, making Casil step back and squint to try to see what it was. With talons extended like a hawk, the dragon dropped down on the troll from the sky at incredible speeds. The troll was crushed under its giant form, a ear-piercing howl of pain echoing over the mountain as the dragon’s claws dug into the troll’s body. Dust and snow exploded in a cloud around the two monsters, obscuring the troll and part of the bright green dragon that had just flown in to attack.

Casil’s eyes went wide as she watched the troll manage to unbalance the dragon enough to get it to jump off of it, giving the troll a chance to get back despite the damage.

Sterlas didn’t waste time. He had hardly managed to dig himself back out of the snow by the time the troll freed itself, but he could hope that the two beasts would occupy each other’s attention for the time being. Sterlas bolted out of the snow, running to push Casil over and onto his back.

Casil winced, toppling over and onto Sterlas’s shaggy fur, but she made no complaints. She adjusted herself onto his back, digging her fingers into his fur before he took off into a full sprint up the mountain path. The sound of the troll and the dragon fighting echoed up the side of the mountain as Sterlas ran as fast as all four of his legs could carry him up the slippery, snow-and-ice-covered stairs. Three thousand four hundred and eighty-five steps. They were halfway there. Sterlas and Casil looked up to the winding path above them. They could see it reach further and further up the steep mountainside, wrapping around it and out of sight to wherever the end was. Casil nervously looked back down the path. The dragon and troll had slipped out of sight, but their fighting still seemed to continue. For how much longer though, Casil wasn’t sure. One of them would no doubt lose, and Casil prayed it was the dragon. They could outrun a troll. A dragon on the other hand…?

Sterlas slid a few feet as he tried to maneuver around a switchback, ears twitching as the sound of the troll died off. Maybe the dragon would be busy eating it.

The branches of the trees shifted a bit as a breeze picked up, and suddenly the shadow was upon them again. 

The dragon let out a deafening roar as it flew up the side of the mountain, descending upon them once it reached them in a cloud of ice and snow stirred by the mighty beating of its wings.

Sterlas snarled, managing to lurch out of the way as the dragon came crashing down where they had just been. The force and proximity of the landing was still close enough to knock Sterlas over, sending Casil flying and tumbling into a snowbank. She grimaced as the frigid snow collapsed on top of her, leaving her blind to what was going on around her.

The dragon turned its giant frilled head, blood dribbling down from its maw and staining the snow below. The troll had obviously done damage, but not enough to slow the dragon down significantly. It caught sight of Sterlas first as the werewolf pushed himself to his feet, and immediately it lashed out to bite him.

Sterlas grimaced as its fangs sunk into his tail, just narrowly avoiding the brunt of the bite. Sterlas howled in pain, lashing out to swat the dragon in the snout. It hissed, pulling Sterlas along by his tail for a few feet before finally letting go to reel back in pain. The dragon shook its head, sending blood flying in either direction.

Sterlas dove down under the dragon’s breast, swinging for any soft looking scales under its wings. The motion made the dragon rear up, trying to back up to see where Sterlas had gone.

Casil managed to free herself from the snow, shaking as much of it out of her hood and clothing as she could in a single movement before she shoved herself to her feet. The dragon had its attention to Sterlas, yellow slitted eyes darting back and forth as Sterlas tried to stay out of range of its mouth. 

Finally growing tired of the game, the dragon spread its wings and took to the sky with another burst of wind and snow, making Casil shield her face. Not wasting the brief break in attacks, Sterlas bounded over to Casil again, tossing her onto his back once more before making a break for it.

The dragon took a brief second to fly out and circle back around to position itself for a better attack, riding the drafts up to quickly meet where Casil and Sterlas had scampered off to. With a deep rumble, the dragon exhaled a stream of ice as it passed over them, coating the stairs with frost. Sterlas tried his best to avoid it, and what he couldn’t outmaneuver Casil attempted to block with a ward. The ice crashed over and around them, and while the ward helped take some of the brunt it didn’t stop everything. Both Casil and Sterlas grimaced as ice crept over them, coating their clothing and fur in a thick layer of frost that crunched and cracked as they moved. Casil was as thankful as ever for her hood, though with the chill she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep ahold of Sterlas’s fur.

Quickly, Casil lit fire in her hand, hoping the heat would both help melt off the frost as well as provide a method of attacking while Sterlas ran. She tried to ready her aim as the dragon circled back around. Her first fireball missed by a long shot, thrown off as Sterlas slid and tried to make it the next turn of stairs. The second only skimmed the dragon, doing nothing to slow it down. Another stream of ice rolled towards them, and this time Sterlas made an abrupt turn. Instead of following the path, he darted towards the treeline. The dragon passed right by them, not expecting the change in pattern. Sterlas pushed himself through the thick snow, trying to pull them up the side of the mountain to the next section of the path.

Casil glanced out between the branches as the dragon flew back out again, clearly having to re-adjust. She gripped Sterlas’s fur with both hands, focusing to cast an adrenaline spell on Sterlas. For a brief moment, the werewolf’s fur shimmered green, and immediately he could feel a surge of magicka and energy. With a great push, Sterlas burst out of the treeline and back onto the path, running harder than he had in many years. Casil turned her head quickly to try to spot their attacker again. 

The dragon dove down from above, talons extended again as it tried to grab them like it had the troll. 

Casil sharply pulled on Sterlas’s fur in panic, making him yelp in surprise as he turned his head, but it wasn’t fast enough.

While the worst of the claws missed her, the dragon still made contact with the two. Casil felt one of the talons scrape by her side before she was knocked off of Sterlas, sending her tumbling towards the edge of the mountain and into a snowdrift for a second time. Sterlas hit the ground as well, taking a few tumbles before he managed to dig his claws into the ground and stop himself. The dragon sharply circled around and managed to land itself on the path between Casil and Sterlas, wings spread out wide as it loomed over the werewolf.

Sterlas used the last of his energy from Casil’s spell to jump onto a outcropping of rock, using it as a boost to lunge at the dragon’s face. He managed to latch on, taking a swipe for the monster’s eye.

The dragon snarled, pulling its head back in time for Sterlas to miss. It turned and sharply whipped its head up, sending Sterlas flying off. Sterlas winced as he landed in the snow, grateful that it was there to break his fall. The dragon dropped onto all fours, using its wings to help it quickly close the gap between itself and Sterlas. The dragon lashed out, trying to sink its teeth into Sterlas.

Sterlas managed to catch both halves of its mouth in his claws, struggling to keep them from snapping down on him. Surprisingly cold breath exhaled out of the dragon’s giant, sharp-toothed maw, coating Sterlas in a layer of spit. The dragon tried to force its jaws closed, but Sterlas managed to push them open. His arms shook, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could manage it.

To his relief, the dragon suddenly staggered forward, pulling its head away without biting down with a snarl of agony. A sickening smell of rot filled Sterlas’s nose, and he could soon make out where Casil had her hands on the dragon’s tail. The spell ate away at the dragon’s scales, and though it didn’t spread far it was enough to get the dragon’s attention. The dragon flashed its teeth at her in irritation, before simply flicking its tail and sending her back into the snow with another cloud of powder. Sterlas lunged, using the chance to sink his teeth into a loose bit of skin and scale on the dragon’s neck. It roared in pain again, trying to shake Sterlas off.

“ _ Ruth _ _! _ ” The dragon roared in anger, rearing up as it feebly tried to use its wings to scrape Sterlas off. 

Sterlas held tight, sinking his claws in until he finally couldn’t hold on. He dropped back to the ground, wincing again at the impact. 

The dragon glowered at him, its eyes shifted to Casil as she managed to uncover herself from the snow again. Without any hesitation, Casil hurled a fireball at the dragon, not even fully oriented yet. The fireball surged forward and nailed the dragon in the eye, making it jerk back with a howl of pain again.

It was a lucky shot, but one Casil wasn’t going to complain about. Gripping at the wound in her side from the dragon’s claws and what would no doubt at least be deep bruising from the impact with its tail, Casil reached out to grab onto Sterlas again, and with his help she managed to situate herself on his back again.

Sterlas turned tail and ran again, pushing as hard as he could. His body ached, but there was no time to stop. He had to get as far as he could while the dragon was reeling from getting fire in its eyes.

Casil winced each time Sterlas’s feet hit the ground, trying to hold her wound and Sterlas at the same time. The fire bought Casil enough time to at least stop the worst of the bleeding, but it still hurt. Casil glanced over her shoulder again, hearing the dragon take to the air again. 

The dragon’s eye remained closed, but fiery hatred burned in the other eye. The dragon chased after them, flying up rapidly after them. 

Casil grimaced, gripping Sterlas’s fur as tightly as she could with one hand before taking pot shots at the dragon as it chased up behind them. Fireballs blitzed down the side of the mountain, most of them missing, but a handful skimming over the dragon’s scales or managing to make impact with its broad chest. Burns scattered the dragon’s otherwise white scales, and though the monster looked like it was growing tired, it continued its pursuit. Casil looked back up. The stairs seemed to plateau off a bit, and just over the white of the snow she could make out the edge of what appeared to be a building. Just a bit further- 

Sterlas managed to get up the last few stairs, his claws meeting the edge of level earth before the dragon caught up. The beast’s claws grazed Sterlas as it soared upwards, knocking Sterlas to the earth and throwing Casil a few feet across the courtyard. She winced, feeling ice and stone bite her cheek as she rolled.

The dragon broke into a hover, slowly descending down to land above the werewolf. “ _ Mey joorre! _ ” the dragon roared, dropping onto its wings to stride forward. It picked up Sterlas in its jaws, tossing the werewolf to the side effortlessly before he could get up before powering towards Casil.

Casil staggered to her feet, exhaling sharply in pain. She whipped her head to look at the oncoming dragon just in time to be met with a stream of ice from its maw. She brought her arm up to block her face, unable to cast a ward in time to block at least  _ some  _ of it. The cold settled into her bones, making it painful to even lower her arm. Chunks of ice and frost sloughed off of her as she tried to bring her arms up to cast a fireball. This wasn’t good. The dragon’s yellow eyes narrowed at Casil, maw dangerously close to coming within biting distance of the small bosmer. And Casil had no doubt that they could eat her whole in one bite.

It opened its mouth, preparing to bite down on her. Rows of razor-sharp teeth stretched out before Casil, frost curling out with long strands of saliva. Casil felt her fingers sting at the sudden change from cold to hot, the fireball between her hands growing a bit bigger before she finally forced her arms forward to toss it down the dragon’s throat.

The dragon’s eyes widened in surprise, making a strange inhaling noise as it reeled back. It let out a painful gag, smoke streaming out of its mouth, before a explosion of fire flashed down its throat. With no other fanfare, the dragon collapsed to its side, its skin and scales slowly starting to flake and burn away from its bones.

Casil shivered, feeling blood creep down her cheek to her chin from a cut below her eye. The tingling, tugging sensation in her chest crept back up again, making her tense. The dragon’s body decayed faster into flakes of ember-lit flesh before a rush of wind and power pushed from the dragon’s corpse into Casil’s body. She staggered back, reaching up to grip her chest. Energy and  _ life  _ tingled through her very being, while at the same time she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. By the time the wind had subsided, the dragon was nothing more than a skeleton. The sensation faded as Sterlas managed to limp towards her, passing over the bones of the dragon. His eyes shifted to Casil, than looked past her, ears perked up. Casil turned and followed his attention.

A handful of older men in heavy black robes waited at the top of the flight of stairs leading into the great stone monastery. 

“So, you have arrived at last, dragonborn.”

 

 

The empty silence that filled the inside of High Hrothgar was exactly as unsettling and dismal as she’d expected, and perhaps more so. In Casil’s eyes, the structure was bleak, with far too many jugs and a few sad, tattered banners with words written in dovahzul that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned off or shaken out in centuries.

Casil followed behind Arngeir, the Greybeard she’d assumed was in charge of the rest, while three other monks followed behind. Sterlas stayed at her side, back to his human form. Was was looking worse for wear and  _ exhausted _ , but he kept his head held high as they walked into the large, empty central room of the monastery. 

Casil glanced uneasily at Sterlas. Few others seemed to be here, and from what little she could gather already… there was probably no denying that she was this  _ dragonborn _ , and there may not be any others.

Sterlas glanced back at her, before making a small hand motion to her. It was difficult to read through his trembling movements, but Casil understood what he was getting at. He was just as uneasy or uncertain as she was, which made her lips pull back into a stiff frown.

“So,” Arngeir began, his weary voice wavering as he spoke, “you decided to wait until spring to come…?”

Casil simply nodded, casting her eyes uneasily to the ground. She reached up to nervously pick at the scab on her cheek, making Sterlas swat her hand away so she wouldn’t make it bleed again.

Arngeir hummed and nodded before his weathered face disappeared behind his hood again, focusing his attention on where he was walking once more.

Casil tried not fidget more at the awkward silence that fell on the party again. Instead, she shoved her hands back into the sleeves of her robe, trying to warm her frigid fingers without making them itch and swell from warming too fast.

“I suppose that many would see it unwise to travel the steps in winter,” Arngeir finally continued, leaning the group to the far side of the open room. A large diamond had been carved into the stone floor, perfectly even on all sides. Arngeir walked to the furthest point, stopping on it before turning to face Casil and Sterlas. Casil and Sterlas paused in the center as the other three monks took their places at the remaining three points, surrounding the two visitors.

Casil and Sterlas glanced at the four surrounding them. Sterlas reached his hand back to rest on the hilt of a dagger on his belt, giving the monks a warning look.

The awkward silence returned. What did the monks  _ want?  _ They were giving Casil an expectant look, but if she was supposed to be doing something other than feeling very deeply uncomfortable, she didn’t know what it was. Wasn’t this where she was supposed to learn what to do? Why did they expect her to just know what to do? Had she missed a memo somewhere?

“Now, it is clear you are a Dragonborn. We have seen that you can absorb the souls of slain dragons. Though, we have yet to hear your Thu’um. Come, let us taste your Voice,” Arngeir said after clearing his throat.

Casil furrowed her brow in confusion. Her…  _ what _ ? Her mind scrambled for anything she’d read in the Book of the Dragonborn that might have even  _ sounded  _ like that, but she drew a blank. A bit of the color drained out of her face in embarrassment. 

Arngeir frowned a bit, wrinkles forming at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I suppose you would have been able to figure out some of this on your own, but perhaps that was a unfair assumption of us,” he said, shifting where he stood. “Your  _ Thu’um  _ is your Voice, the power that allows you to use Words of Power. Each shout is made up of three words of power,” he said, holding up his fingers. “I sense that you might already know one of them.  _ Fus. _ Force. Your dragonblood gives you the inherent ability to use these words into a shout, like the dragons do. It should come to you naturally,” he explained.

Casil felt her heart sink and her stomach churn. She swallowed dryly, her back straightening out a bit with a ragged inhale. A shout. A voice. Words. Metaphorical right…? She fought to keep the panic out of her eyes and her mouth straight, but Sterlas could see it wasn’t going to hold for long. She shifted her gaze back and forth between the robed monks again, gripping the insides of her sleeves to try to steady herself. The building around her was starting to feel like it was spinning. 

Deep breaths. Casil inhaled. Maybe… whatever this was, she could do anyways. She had to be able to, right? If she was dragonborn? She closed her eyes.  _ Fus.  _ She focused on the word, seeing if it drew anything to mind. There was the stirring of something inside of her, like when she had absorbed the dragon’s souls. Force. A deeper understanding to the concept, like feeling the very intention behind it. A different sort of understanding than knowing the definition, something Casil could describe as almost  _ primal  _ and instinctive. She tried to pull on the power. It felt like it kept slipping through her hands, like she couldn’t  _ quite  _ grasp it right, but she continued to try to draw on it. Taking a deep breath, Casil tried to form the word,  _ speak  _ the word, unleash the power-

Nothing came out. She wasn’t even able vibrate what little functionally remained of her vocal chords, and instead she just coughed from forcing the air up in such a awkward fashion. 

She lowered her head to cover her mouth as she choked, and it was a excuse she was thankful for. Anything to look down and hide her face away from the people watching her. Dread settled into her heart, making her feel mildly nauseous and making the whole room around her spin faster. The monks shifted, and Casil’s keen ears could make out the subtle rustle of their clothing as they waited for  this miracle Casil was supposed to just perform for them. 

“Give it another try,” Arngeir said softly. Casil could tell he was trying to be kind, and perhaps genuinely was, but she could pick up an edge of worry in his tone.

Her brow knitted together tightly in an attempt to keep her fear and panic under wraps. She had absorbed two dragons souls. Now, she was certain of that. And she could  _ feel  _ a power associated with  _ fus.  _ Surely, if she was dragonborn, no matter what all of that meant she would be able to use this  _ Thu’um  _ they spoke of.

Casil finally straightened herself, focusing her gaze just past Arngeir’s shoulder on one of the banners against the wall.  _ Fus,  _ force. The ability to bend things, to change things. She drew on it again, trying with all her might to grasp the power and bend it outwards.

She could make a  _ f  _ noise fine- that did not require anything but the curl of the lip, the shift of the tongue, and a stream of air. But the  _ u _ , the simple  _ u _ \- Casil couldn’t manage anything but a cough for trying to make the noise. 

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, humiliation joining the dread and panic in her stomach. Her hand reached up to rub at her throat. She’d come all this way, climbed the stairs, waited, worried, for nothing.

Sterlas shifted next to her, reaching out to put a hand on her back in worry. His touch made Casil flinch away, feeling all too aware of the stares around her.

“Is something wrong, dragonborn?” Arngeir asked, glancing to his fellow monks in concern. “Where is your Voice?”

Sterlas looked up from Casil, wanting nothing more than to just hide her from all of this. He could see her shaking. Sterlas cleared his throat. “If I may speak…” he began carefully.

Arngeir frowned at Sterlas. “I believe the dragonborn can speak for herself-”

“She can’t. That’s… the thing,” Sterlas interrupted, lifting his chin a bit. “Casil is, uh… mute.”

Casil buckled. The contents of her stomach splattered over the floor as she doubled over. She managed to emit a choking sob as she dropped down to her knees, throwing up again.

Sterlas quickly reached over and helped the poor woman up, ushering her to the side to find her somewhere to sit that was out of the circle of monks. 

The Greybeards slowly gathered together away from Casil’s pile of vomit, muttering softly amongst themselves.

Casil threw her hands over her eyes, hunching into a small ball where Sterlas had settled her on the stairs that lead into one of the side halls. Sterlas crouched down in front of her, making sure that he blocked the Greybeard’s line of sight to her. 

How stupid could she be? When she heard the words  _ voice, shout  _ and  _ words _ , what had she been expecting? She could have done anything but given it a miserable try and left with at least some semblance of her pride in tact, but now she just felt ashamed and deeply humiliated. And angry, more at herself than anything. She should have just stayed at home. Be that when they’d seen the dragon, or after she found out she was supposedly  _ dragonborn.  _ Her mind wanted to scramble to find any reason she  _ wasn’t _ , but even the Greybeards had said that she was  _ clearly  _ it. 

What good that was, apparently. Sterlas gave Casil space, resisting the urge to reach out and give her a hug. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the Greybeards carefully. Every now and then, one of them would turn to glance in the visitor’s direction, and Sterlas would narrow his eyes. After a few minutes of silence between the two parties, Sterlas finally broke the silence. “I ain’t no expert on this  _ dragonborn  _ nonsense, but Casil is a good mage. She can kill a dragon without whatever this shoutin’ shit is. Ya saw that with ya own eyes,” he scoffed. 

Casil glanced up at Sterlas with a sniffle, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes with the edge of her shawl.

Arngeir pursed his lips, glancing at his fellow monks before stepping forward from their midsts. “That may be true, but without the Voice she lacks the power to use-”

“Use what? Screamin’?” Sterlas scoffed. “I get it, Ulfric used that to kill the High King. But the two dragons Casil’s killed so far didn’t need no screamin’ to kill.”

Arngeir stiffened. “It is the way of the dragonborn to use the Words of Power, the things that we as Greybeards devote our time to studying and meditating on. If she cannot use them, then…” He shifted his gaze to try to see the tiny bosmer hidden behind Sterlas. “I’m afraid we have little to offer her at this time. I’m afraid this is a matter we must discuss in much more depth. This… was not what we expected. We will have to meditate in length over what should be done next… what  _ can  _ be done next, if anything.”

The other three monks turned silently at that, disappearing off into the other wings of the monastery. 

Arngeir watched his companions leave, before glancing to Sterlas and Casil one more time. “You are welcome to rest here for the night. It is a long journey back down the stairs, and you have been through enough already,” he said simply, turning to walk away.

Casil felt anger start to drown out the other emotions boiling in her chest. That… that was  _ it?  _ They were going to call her up there, making a big deal about this like  _ everyone else _ , and then just walk away? Offer her no explanation,  _ nothing?  _ She started to push herself to her feet, but Sterlas reached out and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back to the stairs.

“Hey. None of that,” Sterlas said lowly, giving her a firm look before glancing back in Arngeir’s direction. While he felt the same sentiment, he doubted starting a fight with them would achieve anything. He turned around, hoping Casil wouldn’t use that as an opportunity to bolt around him while his back was turned to her. “What the fuck do ya expect us to do then?” Sterlas called, watching Arngeir as he paused halfway up the stairs to the opposite wing of the building. “We ain’t even gonna get like. I don’t know.  _ Anythin’  _ about what she’s supposed to be doin’?” Sterlas asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Arngeir sighed. “...I’m afraid I have little to offer you, as I’ve said. For now, all I can ask is that you rest. Perhaps, when the sun rises tomorrow, we will have something more to say to you.” 

Sterlas’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t have anything to follow up to that. Arngeir lingered for a moment longer, and when the silence had stretched just to the edge of uncomfortable he finally left.

Sterlas sighed, taking a moment to collect himself before he turned around to face Casil again. She was staring forlornly at the ground, sniffling still. Sterlas dropped back into a crouch, before being unable to hold back from pulling her into a tight hug. She tensed, before finally letting her head rest against his shoulder in defeat.

“Hey,” Sterlas said, finally pulling away. He rested his hands on her shoulders again, trying to keep her from slumping too much. Casil looked at him miserably, half of her face hidden behind her hair. “Ya didn’t know. It ain’t ya fault, alright?” Sterlas said sternly, giving her shoulders a firm squeeze. “Not like ya chose this anyways, right?”

Casil nodded, her gaze shifting to any nondescript place that wasn’t Sterlas’s face. 

He let go, straightening himself out. “Let’s find ourselves somewhere to settle down, yeah? Since they didn’t specify nothin’, I imagine anywhere is fine. And if not, they’re gonna have to deal.” 

 

 

There was at least one alcove that seemed far enough away from most of the activity of the monastery that held a decent sized brazier and some carpeting that the two settled down in. The monastery was rather vacant, with less than a dozen monks residing inside of the giant stone building. Only two people passed them during their entire stay, and Sterlas was certain it was just to check on them.

“Damn dragon did a number to our stuff,” Sterlas grumbled, holding up his bag. A few huge holes had been torn through the canvas, and a lot of his things that hadn’t fallen out on the way up were trashed. 

‘And us,’ Casil signed, pulling up the edge of her shirt to look at the nasty bruise on her side. Well, it was better than the hole it had been when the dragon’s claw had hit, but it still ached something fierce. She knew she could probably heal it more, but after the surprise attack by the dragon she wasn’t itching to burn more magicka if she could avoid it. She had done a number on her reserves as it was, and it would take awhile before it regenerated.  If they got attacked on the way back down, or  _ anywhere  _ on their way home presumably, Casil didn’t want to run into the possibility of running out of magicka.

“Is that the worst one?” Sterlas asked, sliding over to check it.

Casil nodded, huffing as she held up her shirt so he could examine her side. Sterlas had seen her naked far too often when he’d been a werewolf, and she’d given up pretending he hadn’t. 

Sterlas dug through his bag, pulling out a herb ointment to slap it on the remains of the gash in her side and on a few of the ones on her hands and cheek.

“Remember what I said about the dragon thing?” He chided again, shaking his head with a soft smile on his face as he rubbed the ointment into her cheek.

She squinted at him, pouting. ‘Maybe no more, if all of this is just…’ She didn’t finish her thought, her hands just slowly falling back into her lap again with her gaze.

Sterlas’s eyes softened. He couldn’t blame her for being hurt over this, but he didn’t enjoy seeing her so upset. He  _ rarely  _ saw her so genuinely upset by things, and his inability to really help her in this situation bothered him. He slid back over to his spot, checking through the remains of his stuff. “Hey,” he chuckled, pulling something out from where it had been protected in a wad of clothing. “Look what made it.”

Casil tilted her head, watching as Sterlas tossed over a book. A copy of  _ The Lusty Argonian Maid  _ landed next to her leg, and immediately Casil picked it up and hurled it back like a dirty rag with a face of disgust.

“Hey, I got this out of ya house. Ya had this in  _ ya room _ ,” Sterlas said in mocking defense, catching the book before shaking his index finger at her.

Casil shook her head. ‘It was  _ not.  _ I know it wasn’t. That belongs on the bottom shelf of the bottom floor in the corner,’ Casil insisted in return, lifting her head up pridefully.

“Oh, sure. That ain’t explainin’ to me why ya had this at  _ all _ ,” Sterlas taunted, turning the book in his hands.

‘It’s a book. I collect all books,’ Casil said, puffing her chest up a bit with that.

“Sure, sure,” Sterlas said, flashing his yellowed teeth in a smile. As long as it brightened her up a bit.

‘Why do  _ you _ have it?’ Casil questioned.

Sterlas shot her a glance, arching his brow. “Casil, do ya  _ really  _ wanna know? Do ya really  _ not  _ know?”

Casil paused, before making a face at him. She grabbed a cushion that had been in the alcove for meditation and used it to swat at Sterlas, making him burst into laughter. 

Anything to get her mind off of it for just a little while.


	9. VIX - Grahmindol [Tactic]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody for reading and leaving comments! It always helps inspire me to keep writing weh.

The Greybeards summoned Casil and Sterlas to the main hall in the midst of their packing the following morning. The monks waited around the diamond Casil had stood in the middle of the previous day, eerily silent. 

Casil and Sterlas stopped a few feet back from them, waiting for them to speak first. Casil tried not to let herself hide behind Sterlas. Even if her pride still hurt, she didn’t want to let them humiliate her again.

Arngeir took a deep breath, looking Casil over. “We have come to an decision,” he said solemnly. Casil tensed, bracing herself for the worst. “Though you may not be able to use your Thu’um, we have decided that there is… no reason not to let you attempt our test anyways. Fetch us the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and perhaps there may be hope for you yet.”

Casil looked at them in mild surprise, but soon she pursed her lips. She wasn’t fond of how they phrased that. But a fetch quest…? That shouldn’t be difficult. Casil hated having to be people’s errand boy, but Casil couldn’t imagine that there was anything about retrieving a single, simple horn that would require this mystical  _ Shouting  _ they talked about. Casil nodded her head firmly in response. She would get it.

“Where would we find that?” Sterlas asked, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“You may find the horn in Ustengrav, in Hjaalmarch. That is all I can offer you,” Arngeir said, bowing his head.

Sterlas nodded, glancing to Casil. Her eyes looked steadily forward, trying to keep things together, but Sterlas could tell she was avoiding eye contact. Sterlas grunted. “We’ll fetch it,” he replied gruffly, turning to return to packing.

The other Greybeards began to disperse at the response, quietly returning to the recesses of the monastery. Arngeir lingered for a moment longer. “Be warned, hower, that without the Thu’um, you may not be able to reach the horn,” he cautioned, a frown tugging at his weary face.

Casil finally lifted her gaze to the monk, locking eyes with him for a moment. Her jaw tensed, but she lifted her head pridefully before signing.

“We’ll see about that,” Sterlas translated, waiting until Casil had turned away to walk ahead before following her. 

Casil swiftly walked back to the alcove they’d rested in, quickly packing the remains of her bag. Her gaze focused and determined, but the worry was still there.

Sterlas picked up his bag, making sure that the holes he’d roughly stitched together with what little string he had held tight. “Hey. Ya got this, alright?” Sterlas said, reaching out to give her a firm pack on the back.

Casil’s facade dropped, worry flooding her face again as she looked up at her companion. ‘You have a lot of faith in me for this,’ Casil signed, sighing as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Don’t matter if you’ve got that Voice shit or not. Ya plenty capable on ya own. Besides, ya the Dragonborn too, right? Maybe ya destined to finish this one way or another,” Sterlas said, grinning at her.

Casil’s face didn’t light up. She trudged towards the door, biting the inside of her lower lip as she shouldered her way through the door and out onto the front stairs. It was hard to believe that she  _ was  _ the Dragonborn, and she still didn’t even know what that all  _ meant.  _

The wind howled and immediately stung her ears as she exited the building, making her pause to pull her hood up as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Once she could see, her gaze immediately fell on the skeleton of the dragon they’d killed just a day prior. Snow had gathered up along the edges of some of the remains, but besides that it hadn’t changed or moved. It simple remained as a monument to what she’d done.

To the fact that she’d absorbed its soul.

Sterlas stepped out behind her, resting a big hand on her shoulder when she didn’t continue down the stairs. “C’mon kid. Let’s get off this Divines forsaken mountain, yeah?”

Casil looked up at him, before taking a deep breath and nodding. 

The trip down the stairs was much faster than it had been on the way up, and to Casil’s relief they didn’t encounter a troll or a dragon. Their horses awaited them in Ivarstead where they’d been left, ready to take them away to their next destination.

“So, ya wanna get the horn?” Sterlas asked, saddling up his horse.

‘I don’t have a choice, do I?’ Casil signed, climbing up onto Maehaur’s back. The horse snorted, shaking his mane out as he awaited for Sterlas to get up onto his own horse.

“I mean, ya could just. I don’t know. Ignore it? Leave Skyrim? It ain’t like the Greybeards probably control any of this, ya know? They ain’t even tellin’ ya what ya supposed to be doin’. Maybe  _ they  _ don’t even know.”

Casil nudged Maehaur forward as Sterlas got situated on his own horse, taking the moment to consider that. ‘You told me that I can’t turn my back on everyone if i’m the only one who can do this. Whatever  _ this  _ is.’

Sterlas shrugged. “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”

  
  


The frozen marshland of Hjaalmarch was still deep in the grips of winter. Ice created mosaics over the wetland water, and the permafrost and mud crunched under the hooves of the horses as they made their way across the landscape. Snow still fell from above, covering their muddy tracks only a few minutes after passing. Sterlas was fine with that though. It meant the horses could travel easier, and it meant that they wouldn’t be trudging through the mud either when they got off.

Casil eyed a few spots where Death Bell plants were starting to poke out of the snow again, trying to distract herself from the task ahead. 

Sterlas glanced to her. Casil had been relatively silent for the whole trip from High Hrothgar, and it was obvious she was deep in thought. He couldn’t blame her though. They didn’t even know what this whole  _ Dragonborn  _ thing entailed, or anything about saving the world. The only thing Casil knew about for certain was that she was probably saving the world from dragons (a task she wasn’t sure how you  _ finish _ ), and that nobody else could do this task. Oh, and of course,  that she didn’t have the ability to use the Voice, one of the whole of two things that seem to come with being dragonborn.

It was frustrating. Everyone expected her to already know what she was doing, where she was going, how to use her powers… Where was she supposed to have gotten this information? Was it just supposed to be something she inherently  _ knew?  _ Because if it was, Casil would be happy to inform them that she knew absolutely nothing about what was going on. The nords seem to have  _ some  _ idea, and she was starting to wonder if she should just go into the nearest town and just ask at this point, since she wasn’t figuring it out herself.

Divines. Part of her had been hoping that things would work out like they always seemed to in the tales she’d heard when she was a kid. The great hero miraculously gets access to great powers, and is guided to their glorious victory over a very obvious evil. Casil had ‘obvious evil’ down in the form of at least a dozen or more dragons, and ‘great powers’ down in the form of… absorbing dragon souls? But nothing was obvious or tying together well beyond that.

She slouched, feeling more and more irritated about the situation.

“Ya doin’ alright back there?” Sterlas asked from ahead, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

Casil jumped up a bit in her saddle, snapping her head up to look at him. She waved a hand dismissively, nudging Maehaur to catch up.

Sterlas slowed his horse down, digging into the pockets of his jacket to pull out his map. He looked it over, trying to shield it from the wind before he surveyed the surrounding landscape. It was hard to make out where things were through the snowstorm. “I think we’re getting close,” he said after a moment, folding the map up again so it wouldn’t get damaged. 

Casil nodded, distantly scanning the area herself.

Sterlas frowned, before sighing. “We’ll get this figured out, alright?” He dug around for his compass, checking their direction before steering his horse a few feet to the right.

‘Will we?’ Casil signed once Sterlas had a chance to glance at her again.

“Of course. It ain’t like ya haven’t figured out everythin’ else before. Don’t doubt yaself, alright?” Sterlas said.

‘Hard not to,’ Casil signed, her gaze dropping again. The only people who seemed to be able to give her any direction or help doubted her ability to complete her task. All because she was mute. All because she couldn’t scream power or whatever the hell it was the Thu’um was supposed to do. Immediately, Casil returned to introspecting, angrily squinting at the ground ahead of them.

Sterlas wanted to snap her out of it, but he didn’t know if anything he was going to say would help. He’d tried, but Casil kept finding her way back into being miserable. Which, was fair. This wasn’t exactly  _ optimal.  _ Casil was a hermit and a necromancer. Outside of him, he’d never seen her spend any extended amount of time with anything that wasn’t a skeleton. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and lived by nobody’s rules but her own. And now people were expecting her to be a hero and play by their rules? Sterlas was certain he’d have a better chance at getting a horker to live in a desert.

 

Ustengrav was not a particularly notable looking ruin from the outside, looking almost like any other nordic ruin sunk into the Hjaalmarch muds. And, like many of them, they could tell that bandits or other skeevy wanderers had been there recently. The two tied up their horses in a grove of trees, hoping they’d remain hidden, before heading inside to clear out a few rooms and set up a camp. 

Sure enough, the first few rooms were occupied by a warring faction of bandits and necromancers. Casil and Sterlas were more than happy to linger back while the two groups continued a fight that had broken out long before they’d gotten there, before picking off the stragglers once the action had died down. After a night of rest, the two headed further down.

 

The ruins did not start off interesting. 

“What do the Greybeards think is so special about this place?” Sterlas muttered, dislodging his weapon from a simple draugr. “Are we even  _ in  _ the right place?”

Casil was starting to wonder the same. Past the bandits and necromancers in the upper floors, there had only been a handful of draugr, and so few of them that Sterlas hadn’t even felt the need to turn into a werewolf. Casil stuffed a handful of old gold coins she dug out of the bottom of a burial jar into her pocket before shuffling to push the next door open. 

Instead of opening into more nordic ruins, the start of natural cavework stretched out before her. Casil paused, gingerly stepping forward to get a look around. A  _ huge  _ cave. A rough path lead down from the door into a massive cavern, and the edge immediately in front of her lead to a drop that Casil guessed was at least 100 feet down. Several crumbling pillars stretched up into the cave’s ceiling, and a few questionable stone bridges connected between them and other levels of the cave. Most of the bridges had collapsed, and Casil was certain that she didn’t trust any of the ones that remained. Light filtered down from a few holes in the ceiling above, allowing for a decent amount of plantlife to sprout on the ground below the ledge. A massive waterfall cascaded from the rightmost wall, creating a river and a small lake around which full pine trees sprouted up along. A word wall was nestled to one side of the waterfall, covered in moss from the mist, while the other side of the cave was the start of some subterranean ruin. Casil could feel the tingle of necromancy, and from their lookout she could see a few animated skeletons slowly making their rounds through the cave and ruins, following paths worn for hundreds if not thousands of years.

Sterlas looked out, careful not to bump into Casil as he looked over the edge. “Well, forget what I said,” he said, lowering his voice as he arched a brow and examined the ceiling.

Casil nodded in agreement. She’d seen some caverns with plants in them, maybe even a tree or two, but not quite to this extent. At least, not in places she’d call real caves. Skyrim certainly had its fair share of unusual hideouts that could only be reached by caves and that  _ started  _ as caves full of plants, but all of them opened up to more sky than rock. Those didn’t count, at least not in Casil’s book.

She turned to follow the path, reaching a hand out to place it on the wall to steady her descent down the gravel path. The skeletons wouldn’t be much trouble. They were ancient and brittle no doubt, relics of necromancy cast centuries ago. The moment they were in range, Casil used a well-aimed fireball to take them out, reducing them to a pile of ash and fragile bones. And, to her dismay, triggering a trap on one of the upper floors of the ruin. Fire burst out of the ground where the skeleton’s weapon had fallen, directly in the middle of a set of stairs Casil was certain they’d need to take.

“Great,” Sterlas grunted, watching a few of the skeleton’s now-scorched bones clatter down the stairs. 

Casil made a face, finishing the descent to the ground level. If there were any skeletons left, Casil hadn’t seen them, and she wasn’t that worried. Her attention shifted to the word wall next to the waterfall. It was safe enough, she imagined, to give that a look. Sterlas wandered over to idly kick a skull across the ground, glancing to Casil as she turned from the ruins and followed the path down to the word wall. 

The fir trees were much larger than she’d originally thought. They stretched up towards the holes in the cave, their boughs healthy and glistening in the waterfall’s mist. Despite the cold temperature outside, the constantly flowing water and general lay of the caves seemed to keep the temperature from dipping below freezing. Casil wondered where this was in comparison to the entry. The holes were covered by a layer of frost and snow, which would make them all the more dangerous to walk over if this was level with the rest of the ground. 

Carefully, Casil walked to the giant slab of stone, careful not to slip on the algae growing across the flagstones in front of it. She reached up, running her fingers over the moss-covered letters. Water squeezed out under them, running down the front of the wall to join the rest of the water that collected from the waterfall’s spray. 

Though she still could not read most of the words, some of the words felt like they carried a deeper meaning to them, something  _ more  _ to them. Her fingers lingered on one of the words, feeling as if the moss and stone under her fingers was vibrating softly. 

“Got anythin’ down there?” Sterlas called from across the lake, still up by the ruins.

Casil glanced up at him, tilting her head for more explanation.

“Like, does it tell us where the horn is? What to do? Anythin?” He added, shrugging.

Casil shook her head, hoping Sterlas could see what she was saying. ‘I think it’s a Word of Power, like the Greybeards said? I think it’s the word f _ eim _ ,” she signed, looking back to the wall. She could read what the word was, but she didn’t know what it mean. She could  _ feel  _ what it meant, but she couldn’t put a Tamrielic word to it. She furrowed her brow at that, bringing her hand up to touch the wall again.

Sterlas looked around where he was. “Well, i’m gonna keep lookin’ over here. I think I found a path, but we can go when ya ready.” He stepped away, disappearing out of Casil’s sight.

Casil watched him leave before backing away from the wall, pulling her journal out of her bag. Making sure she was out of the way of the worst of the waterfall’s spray, she pulled out a stick of charcoal and scribbled down the words on the wall, adding another page to her long list of word walls that needed to be translated. Once the journal was put back into her bag, she examined the wall again.

_ Feim _ . She closed her eyes, feeling the word in the back of her mind. She tried to pull on that feeling, that understanding, opening her mouth to try to say  _ something.  _

But of course, nothing came out. She clenched her fists in frustration, exhaling sharply. What was she expecting? She glowered at the wall, angrily slugging the stone before sulking back up the path towards Sterlas.

Sterlas waited for her to come back up, almost knocking her to the ground with a pat on the back when she passed. “Ya don’t need shouts, kid,” he said simply.

Casil glanced back at him, frustration in her eyes, but she just forced a nod and continued forward.

 

Sterlas immediately regretted saying anything. Three gates blocked the hall to the next room, and three stones lay spaced out in front of that; two to the left, and one to the right. What the shouts could have  _ done  _ to help this, Sterlas had no idea, but if there was anything in this cave so far that would need something  _ unusual  _ it was this. 

Sterlas waited back by the first rocks, hands on hips as Casil investigated what lay in front of them. Casil passed in front of the first rock, and in response the runes on its front lit red and the first of the three gates slid open. Casil jumped a bit in surprise, looking between the rock and the gate to make sure nothing dangerous was about to come from the ominously glowing stone. After a moment, the stone dimmed, and the gate slid closed. Casil stepped forward to the next rock, and like the first it lit up red. This time, the second  gate slid open, and similarly after only a few seconds the runes fizzled out and the gate slammed closed with the sound of grinding metal.

Casil stepped out of the line of rocks, walking back around to the start of the rocks. Casil took a few deep breaths, dropping into a sprinting posture before she made a mad dash towards the gates. The rocks lit up along the way, but by the time she’d reached the third rock the first two had dimmed out. Casil slowed down, sighing.

Damn it. Casil exhaled in frustration, turning to face Sterlas. Well, she knew she was not going to be able to close that gap fast enough, especially not with her short legs. Sterlas reached up and scratched his beard. Maybe this was what the Greybeards were talking about.

“Alright, let me try,” he said, motioning for Casil to get out of the way. She stepped aside, waiting next to the gate to see if he could make it. Sterlas took a few steps back, shaking himself out before he made a dash himself towards the gate. Though he was much faster and had longer legs, the runes closed faster. The first gate slammed closed at the third rock, and the second closed shortly after. Sterlas managed to pull up before bouncing into the gate, letting out a loud curse. Closer, but not quite there.

Casil made a face at the gate. ‘Try running again, and i’ll see if I can slip through?’ Casil signed to him, raising a brow.

“Good plan,” Sterlas said, pacing back around to the first stone. 

Casil waited for him to step in front of the first rock, watching the gate begin to slide open. The second it was high enough for her to duck and try to move under, she slid a foot forward, but the moment it crossed the threshold to the hallway the gate slammed down at blinding speeds, only avoiding crushing her foot by the spikes driven into the ground on either side of it. Casil tensed up, pulling her body back sharply. With hands hugged tightly to her chest, Casil stared wide-eyed at the iron gate,  _ so  _ thankful she hadn’t lost anything trying to do that.

“Okay that… isn’t… going to work,” Sterlas sputtered, his voice going up an octave.

Casil nodded in agreement, scooching backwards and away from the gates. So they would have to trigger all three rocks at the same time.

Maybe if both of them triggered multiple rocks? Casil looked to Sterlas, motioning for him to get the first two as she moved to the third. Sterlas sprinted through the first two, and before the first one could close Casil tried jumping in front of the third. Instead of triggering, the two open gates slammed shut at the same dangerous speed as before. Clearly, whoever had built this had thought about ways to cheat it.

Casil’s lip twitched. There was no way that she was about to lose,  _ lose,  _ to a stupid  _ puzzle.  _ There was no way that the thing that she needed her  _ voice  _ for, the thing that her stupid dragonborn power was supposed to allow her to do that other people couldn’t, was to run through a stupid  _ gate _ . 

She was not going to fail at being a dragonborn because she wasn’t a fast runner.

Sterlas didn’t need to be asked to go to the next line of thought. He turned into his werewolf form, shaking out his fur before pacing back again. Casil moved out of his way, watching in eager anticipation. If he could get close as a human, then he had to be able to make it as a werewolf. He was  _ much  _ faster on all fours.

Sterlas turned around and faced the gates again, dropping onto all fours. He sized up the distance, before breaking into a rapid sprint. The first and second gate went blazing past him, and he could almost  _ taste  _ the third one-

He was certain he was just a paw’s length from the last stone when the first gate shut. Sterlas tried to pull up, but he was going to fast. The werewolf rammed into the gate head first, sending his back haunches up before he flopped down onto the ground.

As frustrated as Casil was, she had to cover her mouth to hide her smile. Sterlas grunted, laying there for a moment before he lifted his head and shook it. Once he could see straight again, he got back up, pacing back around to give it a second go. Similarly to the first time, he had almost made it, but even his werewolf form wasn’t enough. As Sterlas lay in a pile in front of the gate again, Casil picked her brain for something,  _ anything _ , that could fix this. They were  _ so close _ , and Casil refused to let this best her.

Of course. Casil hurried to the first of the rocks, waiting for Sterlas to get up and walk back to try again. The werewolf gave her a unhappy look and trotted back to her with his tail down, but he was willing to give it another go. He wasn’t sure how many more tries he could give though- his head was killing him from hinting the gate, and he was afraid that one of these tries he was going to get his head wedged between the iron bars if he wasn’t careful.

Before Sterlas could run, Casil reached out and pressed her hands against his side. Magicka channeled through her and into Sterlas, and immediately he could feel a surge of energy and adrenaline. Sterlas waited until he felt the full effects of the spell, before taking a deep breath. This had to be enough.

His claws scraped across the floor once more, blitzing through the first two rocks faster than ever, and finally through the third rock. All three gates clicked open as Sterlas continued to run through them, slowing down when he reached the end. Casil’s eyes lit up, wasting no time in hurrying after him. To her relief, the gates stayed open when she passed under them, allowing her to get to the other side with her companion.

Sterlas’s tail wagged, giving Casil a toothy grin when she managed to reach him. She reached up and gave him a thankful pat on his shoulder, sighing in relief. That was done. She  _ hadn’t  _ needed a shout to get through it. Just a good friend and a little magic. She glanced back at the gates as they slid closed again behind them, urging them ahead.

The next room was no doubt more dangerous, but even then Casil found herself relieved to see that there was nothing there that might require anything beyond what she had to complete. A room full of pressure plates stretched out and around several corners, clearly intended to be done without… touching the entire floor except for places at the end? Casil had no idea how it was  _ intended  _ to be done, but enough parts of the ceiling and pillars that supported the stone overhead had collapsed to make patches of ground that had smothered the fire traps on the ground. 

Casil made a running jump for the first pile of dirt, and Sterlas followed with ease. The werewolf made a motion that he was going to go ahead, before leaping and bounding from one safe place to another. Casil followed at a slower pace, but there weren’t many gaps she was worried about. In a few places she fell a tad short, but each time she was able to lean forward and get to safety before the fire could singe her. And, each time, she could here Sterlas jump back to ensure she was alright.

By the time Casil had made it into the next room, Sterlas was stretched out in front of a pair of giant spiders. Both had been slain, and a third was in the process of slowly being reduced to charcoal on top of one of the traps it had been knocked onto. Casil waved at him once she reached the last pile of dirt, eyeing the distance on the jump. This one was… much bigger. She pursed her lips as Sterlas got up and moved to wait at the edge of the platform, ready to grab her if needed. Casil paced back and forth uneasily like a caged animal, trying to hype herself up before she sprinted and lept. 

Too short. She came to land on one of the traps, hearing the loud click of the pressure plate as her weight sunk it into the ground. Sterlas quickly leaned forward, catching the edge of her shawl in his claws before hauling her forward and just out of the way of the fire. Casil winced as she slammed into his meaty arm. Too close again. She gave her companion a thankful but guilty grin. 

Sterlas snorted on her, covering her with werewolf snot before he turned to look to where they’d head next. 

Casil made a face of disgust, wiping her face off before following his gaze. Another task completed that didn’t need any extra power. Her robe was looking a little singed, but she was alive and they walked through the next doorway just fine. She didn’t need no  _ Voice.  _

Casil paused again as they entered the next room. Before them stretched a walkway of stone that ran down the center of the room, framed on either side by water. Giant carvings of dragons arched up on either side, their vestiges covered in water plants that made Casil think that they’d previously been underwater not  _ that  _ long ago. That made Casil purse her lips a bit, before she looked to the other side of the room. 

A altar and a sarcophagus lay on the far end. That had to be it. Casil looked to Sterlas, giving him a slow nod. The werewolf waited, letting her take the lead. Slowly, Casil stepped down to the bridge, nervously passing between the dragon statues. They made no movement to her relief. As they reached the end, Casil slowed. Sterlas’s ears perked up, head tilting until his gaze rested on what Casil had noticed.

A carved stone hand reached out of the altar, palm towards the ceiling and fingers curved enough to hold what they  _ assumed  _ would have been the horn, if it had been there. But, instead, a scrap of paper lay in the otherwise empty palm. 

Casil swallowed hard, her brow twitching as she stepped up to the altar and plucked the note off the hand. She carefully unfolded it, eyes scanning over the words scribbled onto it.

 

_ Dragonborn -- _

_ I need to speak with you, urgently. Rent the attic room in the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I’ll meet you. _

_ \-- A Friend _

 

Casil read the note once, twice, three times, before looking back flat-faced at the altar. Slowly, she crumpled up the paper into a tight ball in her hand.

Sterlas walked up next to her, ears perked up in curiosity. He sniffed at the paper, and Casil finally looked at him. ‘An IOU,’ she signed in explanation, before turning and throwing the paper angrily to the other side of the room.

Sterlas shook his head, pulling it back in surprise. Did he hear that right…? He must have. The smell on the note wasn’t  _ super  _ recent, but it was recent enough that he could tell someone had actually  _ been  _ there, so it had to have happened in the past year or so at least.

‘I can’t believe someone else made it down here too, and who  _ knew  _ I was going to be down here. They told me I couldn’t get down here on my own and some other random fucker beats me to the horn anyways. Unless they’re a dragonborn too, in which case they can just take it,’ Casil signed angrily, before throwing her arms up in disbelief. She absolutely couldn’t believe it. All that drama, all that  _ everything _ , just to have had someone else get down there and get the horn.

Sterlas snorted, sniffing at the statue before he trotted around to find where the ball of paper had ended up. He picked it up gingerly, walking back to hand it to Casil. It was still important, and they needed to go there- even if he was a bit weary about someone who knew so much apparently.

Casil sighed, reaching up and taking the ball of paper from him. She shoved it into her bag before turning to give the altar a firm kick, immediately wincing in regret.

Sterlas rolled his eyes, motioning for her to follow him. They needed to get going and get to the bottom of this. Maybe, for all they knew, this person who’d taken the Horn could actually  _ help  _ them. 

Casil followed after him, trying not to limp from nailing the stone with her foot. All this was just turning out to be one waste of time after another.


	10. X - Thuri [Tyrant]

Despite previous worries, the sleepy town of Riverwood still remained standing. Dragons had yet to raze it to the ground, though the guard count was definitely higher than what Casil was used to seeing. Probably for the best, Casil thought. Even if she wasn’t sure how much a measly guard could do against a dragon, it was certainly much better than anything the poor townsfolk could do. 

She eyed them as they made their way into town. The sun was getting close to touching the edge of the horizon, and people scampered about on their last daily tasks. Mostly loggers and other folk who made their living in the woods. The town was tiny- most of it lay along the main road or along the river, and their business clearly came from travelers and wood. 

Casil and Sterlas tied their horses up in the stable outside the inn before making their way inside, pushing past a crowd of loggers who had gathered outside in their time off. 

The inside of the inn was homey, but a bit cluttered. A handful of locals flocked around the bar, and two other travelers had staked individual tables as far apart from each other as they could. Sterlas arched a brow, scanning  the assortment of folk there. Just who  _ were  _ they meeting in a town like this? There wasn’t shit out in Riverwood, and nobody here looked like the sort of people Sterlas imagined would steal an artifact to get the Dragonborn’s attention. A bunch of lumberjacks, a haggard looking bartender, a skinny dunmer merchant, a young nord farmer and a breton barmaid.

The breton walked over with a smile upon seeing Casil and Sterlas enter. “Greetings. How may I help you?” She asked, looking the two over.

“We would like to rent the attic room please,” Sterlas said, not even looking to Casil to see what she had to say. 

Casil used the chance to glance at others, curious if anyone would have a reaction to the phrase.

The woman blinked, pausing for a moment to Casil’s surprise. She caught the blond woman’s smile falter briefly, before she motioned for the two to follow. “Well,” she began carefully, “I’m afraid we don’t  _ have  _ an attic room. But hopefully this room will suit you just fine.” She stepped into one of the furthest rooms, motioning for them to go inside.

Casil and Sterlas stepped into the comfy two bed room, and as Sterlas turned to face the barmaid she stepped in after them.

“Meet me in my room after the crowd has died down,” she said suddenly, her voice dropping to a whisper. Before Sterlas could formulate an answer, she had hurried out of the room, returning to the floor of the inn.

Casil and Sterlas stared at where she’d scurried off to, before exchanging looks.

‘There’s no way the horn was stolen by a waitress. There’s no way that this random inn servant in Riverwood stole the horn from a place I was supposed to need the Voice to enter.’

Sterlas gave Casil a rather baffled shrug, leaning out of the room for a moment before pulling the door shut. “Well, maybe she’s just the messenger, ya know?” He replied lowly. “I guess this place is as good as any if ya want to do business without too many people seein’.”

Casil slipped her bag off her shoulder, flopping onto the bed before rubbing her face. ‘Great. I love that the Greybeards made a big deal of this and someone in Riverwood stole it before I could.’

Sterlas moved and sat down on his bed before rolling onto his side, checking under it. “Look, the Greybeards don’t need to know nothin’ about this. Ya just need to deliver it back to them, right? Imagine the looks on their faces when you do! Ya made it to the end and ya got the horn. The middle part about the horn gettin’ stolen and havin’ to pick it up somewhere else don’t need to happen.”

Casil made a face of contemplation at that, waiting for Sterlas to right himself to look at her again. ‘I don’t like that someone knew I’d be going there though. How did someone know that the Greybeards would send me to get the horn? Is that just common knowledge? Did the Greybeards set this up as part of the challenge?’ Casil questioned, scrunching her brow tightly.

Sterlas shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it right now. Unless this person ends up bein’ an assassin or somethin’ we’re probably fine.”

Casil dug around in her bag, searching for her journal. She pulled it out and flipped to the copy of Ustengrav’s word wall, sighing as she scanned it over. Adjusting herself on the bed, she flipped back and forth between pages, slowly trying to piece together some of the words.

Sterlas stretched. “Well, I’m gonna go get myself somethin’ to drink while we just wait here. I have a feelin’ things ain’t gonna quiet down for awhile, so I might as well enjoy the activity yeah?” He got up, grabbing his coin purse. “Ya want anythin’?”

Casil shook her head, not looking up from the charcoal-smudged pages.

Sterlas chuckled. “Alright. Don’t work yaself up, alright?” he said, before stepping out of the room. He made his way to another one of the tables, eyeing the crowd again before sitting down. 

The woman soon came over, smile on her face as before. “What can I get you?” She asked.

Sterlas eyed her carefully. “Steak and a bottle of ya best ale, fi ya would,” he said, flashing her a grin in return.

She arched a brow. “Nothing for your friend?”

Sterlas shook his head. “If she’s hungry, she’ll come and get somethin’. Wasn’t hungry when I asked,” he said, digging into his coin purse for his pay.

The waitress gave a curt nod. “I’ll be back then shortly with your food and drink,” she replied, taking the coins from him before disappearing back into the crowd of people.

Sterlas watched her leave, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the edge of the table. He scratched his beard, narrowing his eyes a bit. What had they gotten themselves into…?

 

It took a few hours before most of the drunk and tired patrons that filled the inn had gone, leaving it quiet except for the sound of cleaning in the kitchen and the snap of the fire. Sterlas and Casil finally slinked out of their room, scanning the inn floor. Nobody else lingered in the main area except for the bartender, who was busy scrubbing a table. They made their way to the woman’s room, knocking softly on the doorframe. 

The door cracked open, and the waitress peered out hesitantly. Upon seeing Sterlas and Casil, she quickly stepped aside, opening the door fully before motioning for them to enter.

Casil tensed when she shut the door behind them, balling her hands into fists and watching the woman like a hawk until she had come around Casil’s side.

“So, you got my note I take it?” she asked, looking between Sterlas and Casil with equal uncertainty.

Casil reached into her bag, digging around through its contents before she found the crumpled ball. She tossed it at the waitress with a look of irritation, folding her arms across her chest once the waitress had caught it.

The woman unfolded it, checking it over before nodding. Her gaze returned to Sterlas looking him over. “I didn’t expect the dragonborn to be a redguard,” she mused.

Sterlas blinked in surprise, caught off guard. He pulled back, framing Casil with his arms. “Well that’s because she’s not. She’s a bosmer,” he clarified, wiggling his hands a bit around Casil’s tiny frame. Oh Divines, she’d mistook  _ him  _ for the dragonborn. He didn’t even need to look at Casil to know she was glaring daggers at the woman.

Casil’s arms tightened across her chest, digging her nails into her arm. Casil threw her arms down to her side before grabbing Sterlas’s hand for his attention to translate her furious batch of hand motions.

The woman looked rather taken aback, looking between Casil’s angry sign language and Sterlas. Her face turned red. “Oh… I had… well, excuse me then,” she said, clearing her throat dryly. She glanced at Casil’s motions again before giving Sterlas a confused look.

“She wants to know who you are, why you called her here, and where the hell the horn is,” Sterlas translated flatly.

The waitresses head turned slightly to the side, lips drawing to a thin line. “Can she not…”

Casil’s glare only intensified. 

The breton shifted stiffly, clearly not anticipating that this was how things were going to go. She turned towards a wardrobe that was pushed up against one of the walls, reaching around behind it to pull a switch that caused the whole wardrobe to swing open. “I suppose I owe you an explanation. My name is Delphine. I am one of the last of the Blades. Do you know of them?” She questioned, moving down the stairs after motioning for them to follow.

Casil hesitated, peering down the staircase before cautiously following. Sterlas gave her a look to see if she had anything to say about that, but Casil made no motion to do so.

“Uh, just the basics,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head as he ducked to avoid hitting the low ceiling. 

Casil wasn’t much different. She only knew what the Book of the Dragonborn covered in all honesty, and a few very basic things about their servitude to Cyrodill’s emperors.

“We have been the guards of the Emperors for many centuries, and the slayer of dragons with the dragonborns of the past,” Delphine said, stepping out into the room below. 

Casil hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, scanning the room before she stepped into it. A few chests and wardrobes lined the walls, and a table sat in the middle, but other than that the room was fairly bare and empty. The table contained a map riddled with pins and notes, and a handful of papers stacked up around the corners.

“I am one of the last Blades.” Delphine moved to stand by the table, turning around to face Casil and Sterlas before leaning against the edge of the table. 

One of the last Blades? Casil arched a brow, coming to stand just a few feet from the staircase. Sterlas did the same, looking around the room.

“As you know, the dragons have not been seen in Tamriel for millennium. And, as you know, they’re coming back now. Why though, we’re unsure,” she moved over to one of the chests against the wall, taking a key out from a string around her neck. She crouched down to unlock it.

Casil made a hand motion for her to continue, even if she had her back turned. Delphine pulled the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller out, straightening herself out after closing the chest. 

“You are the only dragonborn that has shown up, and perhaps the only dragonborn that there will be. And that makes you a crucial part in curbing this dragon invasion,” Delphine explained, before walking over to Casil. She held out the horn to her. It was a simple black and curled goat’s horn, Casil assumed,  but she could see the age in the keratin and coloring.

Casil snatched the Horn out of her hands, quickly placing it into her bag with narrowed eyes.

‘Are others unable to kill the dragons?’ Casil questioned, allowing Sterlas to serve again as her translator.

Delphine shook her head, returning to the table. “No. Dragon’s can’t be killed permanently unless their souls are devoured, which only the dragonborn can do. They do not always remain dead otherwise,” she explained.

Casil swallowed. It was news she didn’t want to hear. Lips pursed, she walked over to the table’s edge, scanning the papers and map stretched out on it. A standard map of Skyrim lay pinned down across the table, and here and there tacks had been pinned into the map. Small notes littered tiny scraps of paper with the pins, and Casil could make out dovahzul written on some of them.

‘Why are they coming back?’ 

“We think it’s the Thalmor,” Delphine said, resting her hands on the table as she looked over the map as well.

Casil furrowed her brow at that, looking over to Delphine in surprise and mild confusion. ‘How could it be the Thalmor?’ That certainly wasn’t the first group of people that came to her mind when she thought about who could revive long-forgotten and long dead dragons, but then again she didn’t really know who came to her mind first with that.

Delphine glanced to Casil in return. “Well, that’s what we’re hoping to find out, and part of the reason i’ve reached out to you. The dragons haven’t just been coming back. They’re being  _ revived _ .” Delphine turned her attention back to the map, tapping a  thin finger on one of the pins. “We have been working on tracking the burial locations of dragons, and we believe we’ve located one nearby. I wish to have you join me there to investigate what is going on. That, and I want to see if you really  _ can  _ absorb a dragon’s soul.”

Casil stiffened. Good, more people questioning her abilities and wanting to test her. While she didn’t really blame them, it was starting to grate on her. At least this task she knew she could complete. That being said, this woman was really starting to rub Casil the wrong way. ‘And if I decide I don’t want to go with you or help you?’ She signed.

Delphine pursed her lips this time, looking between Casil and Sterlas as if to make sure there wasn’t a translation error. “The Blades have been loyal to the Dragonborn for centuries. It is our duty to serve and protect you,” she said simply, straightening her back out with a rigid movement. “And without you, the world will be left to the mercy of the dragons.”

Casil’s ears tilted back slightly. ‘ _ Our? _ ’ Casil signed at first skeptically, looking around. ‘I thought you said you were one of the last.’ 

Sterlas hesitated on parroting what she said, but did so anyways.

Delphine’s fingers dug into the table slightly. “Yes, I did. There is… there are  _ other  _ Blades, but until I can confirm that you are in fact the dragonborn there’s little use in telling you anything more,” she said, tense. Her grey-blue eyes narrowed on Casil.

Casil narrowed her eyes back. The Greybeards made her feel uncomfortable, but Delphine seemed like she was trying to sugarcoat being a pawn. Great. 

Sterlas gritted his teeth as Casil didn’t immediately reply, anticipating the worst from the wood elf. To his relief, she lifted her chin up pridefully.

‘Where are we going then?’

Sterlas let out a soft sigh of relief, mentally thanking the Divines. 

Delphine seemed to relax a bit. “Kynesgrove. If my research is right, the dragon mound there may be revived sometime soon, and if we’re lucky we will be there before it has been disturbed. I would like to head out before the break of dawn if at all possible. I am unsure of where the next burial mound is that might be targeted, and we’ve missed one already,” she said.

Casil tried not to get irritated by Delphine’s jab at her tardiness. ‘Fine. First thing in the morning.”

“Good. Then I will meet you outside in the morning. Do you have horses?” Delphine questioned.

Casil nodded. ‘They’re in the stables.’

Delphine nodded. “You should get rest then. We will be pushing hard tomorrow to reach Kynesgrove by tomorrow evening, weather permitting.”

Casil gave one more curt nod, before turning to head up the stairs without another word. Sterlas glanced once more at Delphine, before following the bosmer up. Casil said nothing more, curling up in her bed once they arrived. 

Sterlas did one more check of their room before settling down himself. He glanced over at the tiny bundle of sheets. What was going on in Casil’s head? He couldn’t even begin to imagine.

 

The sun hadn’t even cracked the horizon when the three set out onto the road. Only a few others in town were even up for them to ride past, out to tend to early preparations. The three didn’t exchange words for the first few hours, traveling in silence to the sound of the dawn bird’s singing. Travel was swift, and the weather remained favorable. 

To Sterlas’s surprise, Casil was the first one to initiate a conversation.

‘Does anyone else know that i’m the dragonborn?’ Casil signed.

Delphine shrugged. “I don’t know. Beyond the Greybeards and the Blades, I don’t believe anyone is aware of who you are. And, more importantly, I don’t think the Thalmor are aware yet either.”

Silence fell on them again, this time broken by Delphine. “I hope you’re the dragonborn, I really do. I suppose we will find out soon enough though,” she said, glancing to Casil.

Casil didn’t return the glance, her fingers tightening around Maehaur’s reigns a bit. She was afraid of what Delphine would have to say when she found out that being mute, shockingly, meant she couldn’t shout. Or maybe Delphine had put two and two together and made that connection. She swallowed, holding her gaze steady at the road ahead of them. She wanted to not care about  being unable to use the Voice, but the way it had already found a way to continue to pop up… 

The look of disappointment on the Greybeards face flashed in the back of her head.

She’d faced enough ridicule and humiliation for her inability to use her  _ voice.  _ She didn’t need it again because now it stopped her from using something else.

 

The tension remained thick between the three as they continued, only breaking into small talk every once in awhile. Sterlas kept glancing to Delphine. What had she  _ expected  _ the dragonborn to look like? Obviously she’d had something in mind when she saw the two of them, and she’d assumed Sterlas was the dragonborn over Casil. The Greybeards seemed somewhat surprised to see Casil as the dragonborn as well.

Sterlas glanced to Casil. Well, if the songs and stories people spoke of were anything to go by, Casil was getting pretty far from being the strong, valiant nord man everyone seemed to expect her to be. Casil had never been particularly  _ caring  _ about her appearance as far as Sterlas could tell, but he had a feeling if this kept up the looks of disappointment were going to grate at her.

They were grating at  _ him  _ already, if nothing else.

 

They reached Kynesgrove past dark. The group settled down in one of the inns for the night, leaving Delphine to get better directions to the dragon mound.

Casil couldn’t sleep that  night.

 

They left before dawn again, leaving their horses back in town. The weather was certainly cooler, and clouds had rolled in at some point in the night, but it remained dry and free of any form of precipitation.

“That dragon better not have come back to life already,” Delphine muttered as the group made their way up the hill, hand on the hilt of her sword.

As if to answer her, a dragon’s roar echoed out through the sky, splitting the cold morning air.

Delphine cursed, looking back at the others before she picked up the pace. Sterlas and Casil hurried after her. The sound of great gusts of winds made the trees ahead of them bend and sway, creaking loudly. The second Delphine saw movement she ducked down behind a rock, and the other two swiftly joined her.

Casil was the first one to slide to the edge of it, cautiously peering out from behind their cover.

It was him. Casil’s eyes widened as her gaze fell on the giant black dragon that had been at Helgen. He hovered above the burial mound, gargantuan wings narrowly scraping past the remaining trees that hadn’t been destroyed by the downburst of his descent. A low rumble rolled from his armored throat, before he spoke. 

“[S](x) _[ahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse! ](x)Slen Tiid Vo! _ ”

Casil felt a great bend of energy as the earth trembled around them, before the earth on the top of the burial mound suddenly shifted. A full dragon skeleton burst out of the ground, rocks and dislodged plantlife rolling over its dirty bones. The monster gave a eerie roar as skin began to reform on it, pieces locking into place like a puzzle materializing from the aether. The skeleton gave itself a mighty shake, removing the remaining dirt from its body before craning its neck up towards the larger dragon.

“ _[Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?](x)_ ” The reforming dragon spoke, more and more of its body reforming before their very eyes. Casil had never seen necromancy like this before- if this even  _ was  _ necromancy. 

The black dragon’s red eyes narrowed down at the dragon below, each beat of his wings kicking up another bout of pines and dirt. “ _[Geh, Sahloknir, kalli mir](x)_ _ , _ ” he rumbled.

Casil ducked back down behind the rock, digging for her journal. She managed to pull it out, violently trying to scribble down what was being said. She shifted, moving to lean to check out again just as the black dragon turned his giant head towards the rock. Casil inhaled sharply, sinking down as her heart about jumped out of her chest.

A low chuckle rolled from the great dragon’s chest.  _ “[Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu’u koraav nid nol dov do hi](x) _ ,” the dragon growled, his eyes locking on Casil as if the stone between them did not exist.

Casil felt cold sweat form on her brow, fully aware of the monster’s judging stare. Delphine and Sterlas stared at Casil in panic as she moved to get up. Sterlas reached out to try to grab her, but Casil avoided his grasp.

Casil nervously stepped around the boulder, staring up at the gargantuan dragon. Dirt and pine needles pelted her face under the gusts of wind, but she tried her best not to flinch. She didn’t understand everything the dragon said, but she knew that he had singled out her. Even if she had, it wasn’t like she could have replied.

The red eyes locked on her narrowed into thin, angry slits. “You do not even know our tongue, do you?” He growled, his voice reminding Casil of a crumbling glacier. “Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of the Dovah.”

Casil’s jaw tensed. No matter what she wanted to shout at the dragon in return, all that she was going to give him was silence. 

He exhaled a stream of searing smoke from his nostrils, before his body arched and he began to ascend back into the sky. “ _ Sahloknir, [krii daar joorre](x) _ ,” he commanded, before taking off down the valley.

Casil made a face, before creating a ball of fire in her hand to throw after the black dragon. It missed, and the dragon didn’t even bother looking back. 

“Casil! Get out of the way!” Sterlas shouted, rushing out from behind the rock with sword drawn.

Casil looked back at him in confusion, before it dawned on her. There was another dragon. That was right. She whirled back around to be face to face with Sahloknir’s scaley snout, his body fully reformed into the glory of a fully living dragon. 

“I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice, and despair!” The dragon’s roar echoed out, making the trees around the clearing tremble before he exhaled a giant blast of fire, its power only vaguely dulled by the ward Casil managed to get up before the flames came descending down on her.

Sterlas cursed, rushing up to the dragon past the fire. He took a swing at the dragon’s wing, hoping to damage the webbing before the beast could take off. The sudden pain of the blade cutting through the thin flesh made Sahloknir cease his attack, snarling to turn and face Sterlas.

Delphine used this chance to rush up as well, running around the dragon’s other side before taking a swing with her own sword. The blade cut into the dragon’s neck, earning another snarl of pain from the lizard.

Casil staggered back, recovering from Sahloknir’s attack. She’d blocked some of it, but a lot of the fire had hit the side of her face when she turned her head away from the bright, searing blast. The skin on her cheek bubbled and cracked, but she would have to tend to it later. She staggered away from the searing patch of grass before throwing herself to the ground, rolling a few times to extinguish the remaining fire on the hems of her robe before struggling to her feet. Her own fire burned in her hands this time, and she hurled it at Sahloknir while he was distracted with Delphine and Sterlas.

Sahloknir tried to snap at Sterlas, turning his body quickly. His fangs came within inches of Sterlas’s face, but he managed to pull away faster. Sterlas took the chance to bring his sword up, slamming it into Sahloknir’s chin. The dragon’s head jerked upward, before he snarled and whipped his head around to Delphine when her sword struck his flank. He managed to kick her to the ground, sending her back a few feet before the fire hit him in the side of the head. His eyes turned to look at Casil, spines bristling with rage. 

“I see that mortals have become arrogant while I slept,” he snarled. He exhaled another stream of fire at Casil. Casil tried to move out of the way, throwing up another ward again, but to no avail. The ward didn’t hold for long, and soon the fire pushed past the barrier and licked at Casil’s already burnt skin. She dropped to the ground, trying to roll out of the way in pain. “I do not fear you, Dovahkiin!” Sahloknir rolled, striding towards her. He whipped his tail around to hit Sterlas out of his way, sending him into a tree with a thud. 

Casil silently cursed, switching to ice. She created a giant spike of ice between her hands before firing it at Sahloknir from where she lay. 

To Sahloknir’s surprise, the spike of ice embedded itself through his lower jaw and into his upper mouth, pinning his mouth closed for a moment. He reeled back in pain, shaking his head to try to get the ice unlodged.

Sterlas pushed himself up with his own wince of pain, taking advantage of the dragon’s distraction. He rushed forward, taking a swing at Sahloknir’s wing again. This time, the blade connected and cut through thin muscle, cleaving through one of his fingers.

Sahloknir ripped his jaws apart with a howl of pain, rearing back. Sterlas didn’t relent, grabbing onto the leathery wing before using it to try to climb up onto Sahloknir’s back. The dragon snarled, craning his neck around as blood poured from his maw.

Delphine rushed over as well, taking a swing towards the dragon’s back leg. Her sword cut through the tendons, and with wide-eyes Sahloknir fell down to one knee. Panic spread across the dragon’s features, but before he could get a chance to speak again Delphine had reached his front and taken another swing with her sword. It cut through Sahloknir’s throat, slicing through the thick scales with a gurgling sound. Sahloknir let out a strangled gasp, blood spraying out of the wound and from his mouth.

Casil struggled to her feet, making another spear of ice between her hands. As Sterlas hit the dragon’s head forward, Casil hurled the ice forward, and the spike embedded itself in Sahloknir’s skull.

Sahloknir slumped forward, collapsing to the ground without even fully making it out of the burial mound he’d just been resurrected from. Before his giant corpse event hit the ground, his skin started to peel away and return him to the skeleton he’d been just minutes before.

Casil crouched down, focusing on healing her burns as the feeling of absorbing the dragon’s soul felt less…  _ jarring.  _

Delphine watched with wide-eyes as the dragon’s soul rushed into Casil, leaving the dragon as a skeleton once more.

“So… you really are the dragonborn,” Delphine said, out of breath. She put her hands on her knees, looking over at the dragon’s skeleton.

“What now?” Sterlas asked, rubbing his back in pain.

Delphine finally straightened herself out, sheathing her sword. “We find out who is sending these dragons, or who is controlling the black one who resurrected this one,” she said, scanning the sky cautiously. “I think our next move is to get into the Thalmor Embassy. I don’t have a plan for that now, but… I will send you a letter when I have.”

Casil brushed dirt and soot off of her trashed robes, making a face. ‘We need to return the Horn anyways,’ she signed.

Delphine eyed her, but nodded. “Go answer their call then. When I have plans, I will call for our next meeting. Until then…” she glanced at the dragon’s skeleton one more time, truly absorbing the size and threat of the creature they’d been lucky to catch in recovery. “Be safe. We don’t need you dying on us now.”

‘You make it sound like i’ll need to die for you at some point at all,’ Casil signed somewhat bitterly, making a face at that. Sterlas didn’t communicate the comment, just motioning for Casil to follow him down the hill.

He waited for her to catch up to his side, leaving Delphine to examine the dragon skeleton. “Ya ready to go back up those 7,000 steps?” he asked.

Casil made a face, digging through her bag for the horn. She examined it, turning the old artifact in her hand. ‘Don’t need a Voice,’ she signed carefully, before holding it over her head in triumph.

Sterlas chuckled, ruffling her hair. “That’s the spirit.”

 

Arngeir’s surprise was plainly apparent when Casil pushed her way through the doors of High Hrothgar, the Horn hung around her string. The other Greybeards slowly gathered from the corners of the monastery as Casil approached Arngeir, holding out the horn with a firm, determined look on her face.

Arngeir slowly took the horn, turning it in his withered hands as he inspected it. After a few moments of careful appraisal, he nodded his head. Turning around, he handed the horn to one of the younger monks, before looking to the senior members.

Casil backed up, holding her breath as she stared them down. They couldn’t turn her away now, right? 

After a moment of soft murmuring between the monks, Arngeir turned back to face her. “So… you may not be able to use your Thu’um, but…” He trailed off, looking Casil over. “It seems that you indeed are truly the dovahkiin.”

The four senior Greybeards moved to the four points of the diamond engraving on the floor again, and Arngeir motioned for Casil to stand in the center. She glanced nervously between the ground and the monks, before throwing Sterlas a glance. Sterlas gave her a shrug from where he’d lingered half way down the entry hall, and with some reluctance Casil followed Arngeir’s instructions.

“We had planned to teach you more words of the Unrelenting Force shout, and words of the Whirlwind Sprint shout, but i’m unsure of how much those will assist you in your journey, seeing as you cannot use them,” Arngeir said, his weary brow knitting together.

Casil took a deep breath lifting her chin. “I do not need them.”

Though he couldn’t see all her motions, Sterlas was certain of what she’d said, and softly he repeated it from where he stood.

Arngeir glanced at Sterlas. “Perhaps. What all of this will mean, and how things will play out, I cannot tell you. But, you have completed our task, and we are not in the right to judge the means in which you did so. So, we will acknowledge you as Dragonborn,” Arngeir said, straightening himself out. “Few can stand the voice of the Greybeards, but for you it should be no issue.” He folded his hands under his robe, taking a deep inhale.

Casil stood up straight as well, pride burning in her eyes. Her hands balled into fist, trying to swallow any doubt and shame in her mind.

“ _[Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu’ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu’umu,, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naa suleyk do Shor, ahrk naaal suleyk do Atomrasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.](x)_ ”

The stone trembled under the Voice of the Greybeards, dislodging dust from the stone pillars, but Casil held her ground and held strong. Each word made her very soul feel like it was stirring in her chest, dancing with some unknown power she’d never experienced before. When at last they were done, all the monks but Arngeir gave a bow before disappearing back into the recesses of High Hrothgar in silence.

Casil swallowed, trying not to waver in the aftershocks of… whatever it was that the Greybeards had just done. She had not understood all of the words they had said, but she understood the importance. She stared Arngeir down, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t immediately say anything, Casil turned uncomfortably and started to head back towards the door.

It wasn’t until she had placed her hand on the door that Arngeir spoke. “We will call upon you, if you are needed. And if you need, we will be here,” he said.

Casil glanced over her shoulder, before pushing the door open, stepping outside once more into the cold mountain weather without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Canon dialog + translations]   
> Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse - Sahloknir, your soul is bound to me forever!
> 
> Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik? - Alduin, my overlord! Has the time arrived to restore your ancient dominion?
> 
> Geh, Sahloknir, kalli mir - Yes, Sahloknir, my champion ally.
> 
> Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu’u koraav nid nol dov do hi. - So, you're the dragonborn? I recognize no indication of dragon belonging to you.
> 
> Krii daar jooree - Kill this mortal.
> 
> Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu’ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu’umu,, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naa suleyk do Shor, ahrk naaal suleyk do Atomrasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok. -Long has the Storm Crown Languished with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North. Hearken to it.


	11. XI - Saraan [To Wait]

The dragon hit the ground with a loud crash, sending dirt and debris flying in every direction as it tumbled and slid a good thirty feet before finally coming to a stop. The monster let out one more pain exhale, kicking up dust in front of its nose, before it at last fell still. 

Casil jumped over the edge of the dirt wall the dragon’s sliding body had ploughed, unconcerned about the dragon now that its skin had started to peel off. The rush of energy that surged into her didn’t phase her, and before it had fully dissolved she began to reach into its mouth with a large pair of blacksmithing tongs to pry out the dragon’s teeth. 

Sterlas trotted up behind her, shaking dirt off of his fur. Behind Sterlas trailed a dunmer in dragonborn armor, exhaling in relief when the dragon had been reduced to nothing but a skeleton. She slowed to a stop at the edge of the dirt, taking off her helmet before tucking it under her arm. She shook out her dark hair, watching Casil yank a tooth out of the skull now that there wasn’t anything holding it in.

“How many more do you think there are, sera?” she asked, sliding down into the tiny crater the dragon had created.

They had picked Jenassa up a few months prior, after bumping into her and a wealthy adventure while looking for battlefields to scavenge. The dark elf had narrowly avoided being added to the pile of body parts Casil had been collecting- her previous contract, however, hadn’t been so fortunate. Casil still blamed them for attacking first, though Sterlas continued to remind her that Jenassa and their contract  _ had  _ stumbled across Casil and Sterlas dismembering soldier’s corpses. 

Jenassa had been a welcome help with the growing dragon problem, and the amount of extra money Casil had been making off of dragon bones easily covered Jenassa’s wage. It was going to take Casil awhile to get used to someone who was  _ always  _ talking though.

Casil gave a shrug, starting to tuck the teeth into a extra-thick leather bag so they wouldn’t puncture a hole through it and fall out. ‘Too many. They’re still a problem,’ Casil signed.

Jenassa paused, trying to figure out what Casil was saying. She was still learning what all of Casil’s gestures meant, but she at least understood enough of the few words Casil said to get the gist. Jenassa stooped over and pulled out a empty sack from a bag on her belt, working to collect a few of the bones Casil motioned for her to collect. “Do you still plan on building one?”

Casil nodded, yanking out the last tooth. She kicked the dragon’s skull to the side, eyeing the horns before moving to the dragon’s arm. She picked up one of the shattered bones and tossed it to Sterlas, who happily started to chew on it. ‘Might as well. Enough bones to try. Not like anything else has been happening,’ she signed.

Jenassa hummed. “I will be impressed if you do build it, though i’m… unsure of what you could  _ use  _ such a thing for. It isn’t like you bring out your…  _ other  _ projects,” Jenassa said cautiously, tying off the first bag once it had become very thoroughly filled. She set it aside before turning to start on another bag.

Sterlas watched them, wagging his tail every now and then when Casil threw him another bone to chew up.

Casil snorted, giving a shrug. ‘Anything. Maybe it will be useful whenever that note shows up,’ Casil signed in frustration. ‘And if it doesn’t, maybe I can make a whole army of them. Or just make it rich on the dragon bones. It isn’t like anyone  _ else  _ can get them. They make good armor, once people get it together. And collectors will buy them still. People are weird,’ she signed, as if what  _ she  _ was doing wasn’t weird. She grabbed another burlap sack, working to add more bones to it. The only other bones on the market had been the ones she hadn’t collected herself, which was usually slim pickings. Casil always had first dibs, of course, and made sure to take advantage of it. And the dragon bones were making her decent money. Bones, and scales. Or the whole skull and skeleton if people wanted to try to pay her enough. The rest she pettily destroyed in some fashion. If she was going to keep another market going, she was going to  make sure she was the top seller.

Jenassa missed most of what Casil had said. The poor dunmer shifted awkwardly, picking up the dragon’s claws. “How long  _ have  _ you been waiting for that note? Since before we met, correct?” She decided to question.

Casil nodded. ‘Few months,’ she replied, cutting loose some of the remaining scale and hide to roll up and band together. ‘It could never come for all I care. I don’t want to have to do this, or to deal with the Thalmor.’ 

Jenassa shrugged in agreement. She couldn’t blame Casil for that. 

Casil straightened herself out before blowing a sharp whistle, scanning the horizon for Maehaur. The horse bounded over from where she’d left him on the edge of the treeline with Sterlas’s and Jenassa’s horses in toe. He pulled the other two horses as close as they’d get to Sterlas. 

‘We should get back to Whiterun,’ Casil signed, hauling a bag over to tie onto Jenassa’s horse.

Sterlas finally got up, shaking dirt out of his fur before shifting back into his human form. “How many dragons does that make?” he asked, stretching out slowly.

Casil paused, stepping back to let Jenassa load another bag onto the horses. She pulled out Mirmulnir’s fang and a knife, whittling another notch into it before counting up the marks. ‘Fifteen,’ she signed.

Sterlas grunted, pulling out his toothpick. After placing it between his teeth, he assisted Jenassa with loading up the horses. “Remember when I said not to make this a habit?” 

Casil rolled her eyes, shooting him a look. ‘You say that every time we kill another one.’

“Yes, and ya said we ain’t gonna make this a habit and we’re at fifteen dragons.”

Jenassa looked at both of them. “If I had known that this was what you two did, I might have declined your job offer,” she groaned.

‘I could fire you,’ Casil offered with a nonchalant shrug.

Jenassa furrowed her brow and gave a low chuckle. “Then what would I do?”

“Be happier, i’m sure,” Sterlas replied with his own laugh.

The three horses were able to carry almost all of the dragon’s skeleton, sans a handful of shattered and otherwise useless bones, some vertebrae, and the remains of the skull without the teeth or horns. Once the bags were secured, the three mounted up and headed back towards the city.

A few people assisted Casil and her companions with loading a cart to be taken up into Whiterun from the horse stables outside. For awhile, Casil had worked hard in making sure nobody had realized she might be the dragonborn. Which, at first, had not been hard. But the more she did business in Whiterun, the more she was feeling certain that people had their suspicions. Nobody had approached her yet though if they had. Casil just hoped that Delphine would hurry up and figure out whatever she needed to before the Thalmor had realized it too.

Casil leisurely made her way towards Warmaiden’s, taking her time since it would take a big longer for people to haul the heavy cart up the line to the city. Sterlas and Jenassa took their time as well, helping below as much as they could. Despite the dragon attacks and the civil war, Whiterun continued to hold its own, and if anything Casil’s persistence to hunt the dragons that came through the area had kept the civilians rather safe and content all things considered. Most days, few looked to her when she and her companions passed through the gates. Even when she brought large piles of bags to Warmaiden’s, few seemed to question it. Of all people to be selling large stock to, the smith’s was not that unusual, especially with the events occurring around them.

Today, however, Casil was immediately noticed. A pair of mask wearing individuals were lingering under the eves of a building that neighbored Warmaiden’s, their eerie blank faces turned to watch Casil as she made her way towards the smith’s shop. Their dress was vaguely reminiscent, to Casil at least, of some of the reliefs she’d seen on the walls of nordic tombs, but she paid them no mind. She didn’t exactly  blend in herself, especially with her rag-tag gang, and she had no desire for trouble.

Apparently, the two had other plans. As Casil made her way to Warmaiden’s door, the two strangers stepped up, blocking the doorway before Casil could reach it. Casil looked up at them in irritation and confusion, arching her brow. The beady, broken-looking eyes and jagged, uneven teeth of the mask immediately off put Casil, but she didn’t let her expression change.

“You,” one hissed, looming over the bosmer. “You’re the one they call Dragonborn?”

Casil blinked, taken aback slightly by the statement. Her brow furrowed, but it was the only change in her facade. She glanced back over her shoulder. Jenassa was just making her way through the gates some feet back, and immediately Casil saw her frown and put her hand on the hilt of her sword. Casil looked back to the strangers, before simply tilting her head in questioning.

The strangers glanced at each other for a brief moment. “The silent type,” the first hissed again. “No matter. We know you are the False Dragonborn! You shall not stand in the way of the  _ true  _ Dragonborn’s return. He comes soon, and we shall offer him your heart! When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!” 

Casil was pulled back out of the way just in time for the first stranger to lunge at her with a knife subtly drawn, his blade cutting into the fabric of her shawl instead of her chest.

Jenassa practically threw Casil behind her, bringing her sword around in the other hand to knock the knife from the stranger’s hand. With Casil safely behind her and the stranger disarmed, Jenassa reached out and grabbed the stranger by the shoulder, bringing her sword up and into their ribcage. 

The other stranger didn’t have a chance to move far themselves. Adrianne had opened the door behind them and put an end to the second stranger before they had a chance to do anything past pulling out their weapon.

Casil staired up from the ground as the two masked strangers fell to the ground, dead. Had she… had people just tried to kill her over being the dragonborn…?

Adrianne sheathed her sword as the guards hurried over from around them, looking the strangers over in confusion before looking to Casil. “Are you alright?” She asked, frowning.

Casil nodded, looking them over herself as Jenassa reached down to help her up. Before the guards could get to them, Casil walked over and crouched down next to one, searching through their robes for some sort of answer. Sure enough, she found a crumpled piece of paper tucked into the first one’s pocket. She pulled back and unfolded it, reading it over carefully.

 

_ “Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, and begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Casil before she reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased. _ ”

 

Casil’s brow scrunched, reaching it over again before she folded it back up and shoved it into one of her pockets. The  _ False _ Dragonborn? Miraak? People from all the way out in  _ Solstheim?  _ None of that made any sense, and was certainly out of left field. 

Casil ignored the commotion of guards and civilians around her. Sterlas had finally  made it over with a short jog, looking to everyone for answers as to why there were two dead bodies in front of them, but before he could reply Casil moved to walk past him.

‘Tell Adrianne just to take the bones,’ Casil signed to him quickly, brushing past Sterlas with a brisk walk.

Sterlas looked at Casil in utter bewilderment, before looking back to Jenassa and Adrianne. “I- What-,” he began, trying to look back to Casil for an explanation, but the bosmer was already through the gate. He sighed, rubbing his face before looking back to a equally lost Jenassa and Adrianne. “Uh- she wants ya to just take it. The shipment. Don’t- don’t worry about it alright-” he said with a wave of his hands, turning around to try to run after Casil again.

“What is going on-” Adrianne began, looking now to a very exasperated Jenassa.

The dunmer pinched the bridge of her nose tightly. “I don’t know. Just keep it down. Consider everything a payment for doing so,” Jenassa muttered quickly, waving her hand with a heavy, audible sigh before moving to head after the other two.

Adrianne hung in the doorway of her shop, watching as Casil and her companions disappeared as suddenly as they came. She shook her head, rubbing her face before turning to deal with the guards.

 

Casil had already gotten on her horse by the time the other two caught up to her.

“Casil, what the fuck is goin’ on?” Sterlas snapped, slowing from his run to catch up with her. He stepped in front of Maehaur, trying feebly to block the horse from exiting its stall.

‘Not here,’ Casil signed simply, urging Maehaur forward. Sterlas tried to keep the beast back, but Maehaur pushed past him with little trouble. The horse snorted on him as Sterlas was forced to step aside, making the redguard sigh as Casil headed to the road.

Jenassa rolled her eyes and tilted her head back as she caught up, seeing Casil already on the road. “Nerevar guide me,” she muttered, sighing heavily. 

Maybe joining these two was a mistake.

 

“Casil, c’mon! What is goin’ on?!” Sterlas shouted once they had reached the tundra surrounding the city of Whiterun. 

Casil finally slowed Maehaur down ahead of the other two, letting the horse slowly come to a stop before she turned him to face the others and dug in her bag for the note. 

Sterlas and Jenassa pulled their horses up to Maehur, glad Casil had finally  _ stopped.  _ “Alright kid, what’s goin’ on? What the hell was all that about?” Sterlas asked again, brow scrunched hard.

‘Someone knows i’m the dragonborn. And they know my  _ name _ ,’ Casil signed finally with shaky hands, looking the note over. ‘They called me the.. False Dragonborn? They said there was a true Dragonborn. Named Miraak.’

Jenassa frowned, leaning over to try to see the note. Casil tilted it towards her, letting her take a look at it. “Is it a name you recognize?” Jenassa asked, scanning over the writing.

Casil shook her head. ‘No. None of this is familiar. I don’t know how they figured me out either,’ Casil said, pursing her lips.

“Especially from Solstheim,” Jenassa added, her frown deepening. “Solstheim isn’t… exactly  _ close.  _ And it’s a Dunmer providence. I would have expected that someone here in Whiterun would have figured out who you are first.”

Casil nodded in agreement, showing the note to Sterlas. “Ya think someone here gave them a heads up?” Sterlas asked.

Casil shook her head, pulling the note away once he was done looking at it. She folded it up in her bag. ‘Doesn’t seem like it. Someone in Solstheim seems to have figured it out separately. I don’t know how.’

“Well, if people come after us, we got people who could help us. Like the Blades and the Greybeards. Hell, ya could probably have the Jarl keep em out of Whiterun. It ain’t like they’re being subtle,” Sterlas suggested. 

Casil huffed. Great. That’s what she wanted. She scanned their surroundings uneasily, and of course someone was running at them from the city. Casil pulled Maehaur back, fire erupting in her free hand. Jenassa and Sterlas turned their horses, surprised at Casil’s sudden change in demeanor. A man was hurrying from Whiterun, clearly having booked it.

The poor nord man held up his hands, panting and slowing down as he drew closer. Casil squinted, before realizing it was a courier. The fire went out in her hand, and she allowed the messenger to approach the horses. “Urgent letter. From a friend,” he managed to pant once he was close enough, holding out a envelope to Casil. Once she took it, he leaned over and rested his hands on his knees, trying to recover his breath. “Sorry for the alarm, ma’am,” he wheezed.

Casil waved her hand in dismissal with a shake of her head, before reaching into her pocket to toss him a few coins. She waited until the courier had caught his breath and had started to head back to Whiterun with a ‘thanks’ before she broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out the letter.

 

_ ‘Plans have been made. Meet me in the usual place.’ _

_ \-- A Friend _

 

Delphine, no doubt. Uncanny. Casil was really starting to hate how everything happened around her, or at least how everything seemed to work with Delphine. She folded the letter back up and put it into her bag with the strange note from earlier, lifting her head to look towards the south east.

‘It’s Delphine,’ Casil signed to the other two.

“About time,” Sterlas grunted, following Casil’s gaze. “Let’s get going.”

 

‘A _Thalmor party?_ _That’s_ what you want me to break into,’ Casil signed, squinting at Delphine in disbelief.

Delphine glanced to Sterlas for a translation, and to Casil’s relief Sterlas’s own confusion conveyed her feelings quiet well. Unfortunately for Casil, Delphine nodded her head. “I have a contact on the inside that should be able to get you in. The Thalmor still don’t seem to have figured out who you are yet, so you should be okay to get in with a forged invitation,” Delphine paused, before clearing her throat. “Which… I don’t have yet, but I should have it soon. My contact should be able to get you into the back while the party is going, and from there you should be free to go look for the papers we need while everyone is focused on the party. Anything that could tell us what the Thalmor might be up to and their connection to this dragon business.”

Casil frowned. ‘You want  _ me _ to go in?’ She asked.

Delphine nodded. “Yes. You are the dragonborn, after all.”

Casil made a face, unsure of what that really had to do with breaking into a Thalmor Embassy, but Sterlas spoke up next. “I take it this is a one man job?” He said gruffly.

Delphine nodded again. “I’m afraid so. I don’t think my contact would be able to get any more of you in without too much suspicion. Casil alone will be cutting it, no doubt.”

That wasn’t reassuring. Casil bit her lower lip. ‘So you want me to sneak into a heavily guarded embassy to steal papers.’

“Yes,” Delphine said with a sigh. “But this party is a important social event for the Thalmor’s allies. All of their attention will be focused on that, and you should be able to get around without drawing too much attention.”

Jenassa could see how uncomfortable Casil was with that idea. “Perhaps they will question you less, as a bosmer. You may be able to pretend that you are a supporter from Valenwood,” Jenassa offered.

Casil cringed at that. Not in a million years. She exhaled sharply, shifting before finally nodding. ‘How long will it take for you to write the invitation? And when is the party?’

“It shouldn’t take me very long. Honestly, if we travel to Solitude, where my contact is, I will likely be done by the time we arrive. The party is in a week’s time,” Delphine explained. 

Casil took a deep breath, looking to Sterlas and Jenassa for a moment. ‘Alright,’ Casil said, her shoulders slouching a bit.

Delphine seemed relieved by this. “Great. My contact should be in Solitude now to take whatever you absolutely need for this mission. You’ll have a few days to plan, but this may be the only opportunity we get to do this. And we will only have this one shot,” Delphine added.

Casil winced. She didn’t need that to add to her stress. ‘Great. Let’s get to the bottom of this,’ she signed begrudgingly. It wasn’t like she was getting much of a choice at the end of the day. This was the only lead she had.

 

Casil looked at the papers in her hand. Nothing. Absolutely  _ nothing  _ about dragons, other than the fact that they did, in fact,  _ exist _ .

Casil thumbbed through the folder she’d grabbed off the desk of a Thalmor Justicar that had been in the process of torturing some random man in the basement of the Thalmor estate. Nothing of interest to her, and nothing that answered any question she had about the dragons. She had put a fellow bosmer in danger to sneak into the back of the estate, away from a uncomfortable party, so she could snoop around the shitty estate, nearly get caught, only be ‘saved’ by a invading dragon so she could crash into a torturer’s basement and sneak out through a sewer pipe.

For nothing.

‘It’s not the Thalmor,’ Casil signed, tossing the stack of papers onto the inn table in front of Delphine.

They four had settled inside of an inn south of Dragonsbridge for the night, not daring to linger around Solitude after Casil stole from the embassy. 

Delphine flipped through the paper, scanning the words rapidly for any sign of useful information. Slowly, she ran her hand through her hair and leaned back in her seat with a sigh as Casil moved to grab her usual garb from a bag. 

“If it’s not the Thalmor, then who  _ is  _ it?” Jenassa asked, moving to stand between Casil and the other two while she changed out of the uncomfortably tight and fancy dress she’d been forced to donned for the party.

Delphine checked through the papers again, before finally straightening herself out again. “I need you to get someone,” she said, not lifting her eyes from the pages.

Casil glanced around Jenassa’s side, pausing in the middle of shimmying out of the dress.

“Who do we need to fetch?” Sterlas asked, arching a brow as he leaned against the door.

“His name is Esbern. An old friend of mine,” Delphine said. “He’s a Blade as well, but… his location… is not easy to find.”

Casil glanced to Sterlas, arching her brow as she asked for an answer.

“Not easy to find?” Sterlas asked gruffly.

“He’s taken into hiding out somewhere in Riften I believe. As you can imagine, the Thalmor have been looking for him as well,” she said, one of her slim fingers tapping on a name scribbled on one of the many pages. “You need to reach him before they do. Because it looks like they might have an idea of where he is as well.”

Casil finally finished getting out of the dress, pulling her robe on. ‘Is that the  _ only  _ lead you have on him?’ Casil signed once she had gotten dressed again, somewhat vexed. ‘Do the Thalmor have a more  _ specific  _ location we can look?’ She was not going to scour the whole of Riften for someone. There was no way. 

“Find a man named Brynjolf, at The Bee and Barb. He will be able to help you,” Delphine said, nodding. “And if Esbern doesn’t trust you, ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. There’s a good chance he will be… apprehensive about listening to you.”

Casil plopped down on a bed, pouting. ‘So I broke into the Thalmor Embassy for nothing? Would you have had me go do this now  _ anyways _ ?’

Delphine threw Sterlas a irritated look at his very true translation of what Casil said. “We, obviously, had no idea that the Thalmor didn’t actually have anything to do with this. Getting these papers was important, and while Esbern would most likely need to be found at some point, it’s clear it needs to happen sooner then later if the Thalmor have papers about searching him out,” Delphine said, waving one of the pages.

Casil scrunched her face up. ‘Do you think they’ll find me now that i’ve been there?’

Delphine pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Hopefully since that dragon attack they won’t suspect you or pay that any mind, thanks to the chaos, but… you should be cautious.”

‘And I take it you won’t be joining us again.’

Jenassa threw Casil a look, and Sterlas one for being so literal with his translations.

“No. I will be returning to the inn, so I can get things together there. There is a lot that needs to be done while you are looking for Esbern,” Delphine said defensively. 

Casil raised her hands to make another remark, but Jenassa reached out and snagged one of her wrists. “I think we should rest, sera, especially if we need to make it to Riften,” Jenassa said lowly.

Casil huffed up at Jenassa, fighting her wrist from the dunmer’s hold. Reluctantly, she nodded, getting up. ‘Fine. We’ll head out tomorrow,’ Casil signed, narrowing her eyes a bit at Delphine before moving towards the door. Sterlas stepped out of the way, letting Casil exit the room and head to her own. He threw Delphine a somewhat apologetic look as Jenassa stepped out as well, before following behind them.

 

It’d been a long time since Casil had spent a lot of time in Riften, but she’d once debated on setting up base there. It was a skeevy city, and Casil knew for certain that it was the home base for the Thieves’ Guild. She’d come there in the past to fence goods she’d obtained from somewhat… questionable sources. It’d been a few decades since she’d last used them, and she doubted any of the ways of contacting them were still valid, but she still felt safe in saying that they lingered around in Riften.

Sterlas was enlisted to find Brynjolf, which he did with little complaint. If it meant he got to hang out in the bar and buy himself a beer while chatting with the other patrons, he was more than happy to go and do whatever he was asked. And, to Jenassa and Casil’s surprise, it didn’t take him long to return.

“Said to head down into the Ratways,” Sterlas said, keeping his voice low. “Said we might catch him later on if we can’t find ‘em.”

“The Ratways?” Jenassa groaned?

Casil glanced over the railing that only legally prevented her or anyone else from taking a plummet into the waterway below. A few pipes and doors jutted out over a rickety dock against the waterway walls. Great. ‘Well, let’s get going then,’ she signed, turning to find a set of stairs that would lead them down to the docks below.

“I was hopin’ I’d never end up down there,” Sterlas groaned, and Jenassa nodded in agreement.

 

The Ratways were a almost non-euclidean tangle of pipes, passages, and traps. Plenty of unsavory individuals lurked around every corner, and more than once the three had gotten tangled into a fight or gone in a massive circle. Each wrong turn, each thug, each locked door, blocked passage, and reroute wasted another minute of precious time. Time they didn’t  _ have _ .

The three of them had hardly made it down into the deeper reaches of the Ratways when they heard the echoing of Thalmor somewhere further back in the tunnels.

‘Company,’ Casil signed, looking back down the tunnels. She could hear them barking orders to each other as they searched, no doubt for Esbern.

“I guess Delphine really wasn’t kiddin’ about ‘em lookin’ for this guy,” Sterlas said lowly, motioning for Jenass and Casil to hurry ahead. “Let’s hurry up and find ‘em and get out of here.”

Casil nodded, picking up her pace. Cell after cell lined the walls down where they were, and most of them seemed to be made into small houses. Furnishing lined many of them, and various individuals were huddled down in different corners in cells that weren’t heavily locked. Weary and suspicious eyes watched the three as they passed and headed towards what Casil could only  _ hope  _ was their destination - the most obnoxiously guarded door that she could see.

A huge iron door was set into one of the far walkway walls, complete with a sliding panel at eye level. Casil didn’t waste time. She knocked on the door, holding her breath in anticipation.

There was silence for a moment.

“Go away!” A voice finally barked.

Casil knocked again, hoping this  _ was  _ the right door. She didn’t want to go asking around. She doubted anyone would appreciate it.

“I’m dangerous!”

Casil narrowed her eyes a bit. The person on the other side didn’t exactly…  _ sound  _ dangerous, and while she wouldn’t always trust that as a indicator he wasn’t exactly convincing. She glanced back to Sterlas for help.

Sterlas walked up, clearing his throat. “Esbern, if that’s ya, open up. Delphine sent us,” he said, folding his arms. 

There was silence on the other side of the door. 

Sterlas scratched his beard, glancing down to Casil as she reminded him of what Delphine had said. “Where were you on the 30th of Frostfall?” Sterlas asked, leaning towards the door so he could lower his voice just a bit.

The two could hear someone shift on the other side of the door, before the panel on the door slid open with a awful grating noise. A older man peered through, crow’s feet deepening as he scanned the crowd at his eye level. “So… she did send you,” he said. The panel slid closed, making Casil wince at the noise. “Step back, hold on one moment-”

Casil stepped out of the way as they were met with another set of horrible screeches. Metal ground against metal as lock after lock was undone, filling the tunnels with a deafening racket.

“Just one more. Almost done…” Esbern muttered, before finally the heavy door swung inwards. It scraped along the floor, kicking up dust as it did so. Esbern took a few steps back, peering at the group from around the edge of the door before motioning for them to hurry up and come inside.All three quickly shuffled in so he could close the door behind them. Once it was closed and at least a few of the locks had been shut, Esbern turned to face the others. “So… what has brought you here?”  
“The Thalmor are after ya. They’re already in the Ratways,” Sterlas said urgently, moving back to the panel to glance out of it. “We need to get out of here. Like, soon.”

Esbern was clearly not expecting that. He took a step back in surprise, looking between the three of them before nodding. “I should have figured,” he said with a heavy sigh, before hurrying to grab some of his things. “Give me a minute. I have some important things I need to grab first.”

“Better make it quick,” Sterlas growled, “‘cuz they’re already  _ here _ .”

The sound of the Thalmor had picked up, drawing closer as the  Thalmor began to inspect cells further down the line.

Jenassa helped Esbern grab what he needed while Casil readied her spells, getting ready to fire once they opened the door. Once Esbern had thrown a coat on and had a pair of bags over his shoulder, he nodded for them to head out.

Sterlas pushed the door open as quickly as he could, allowing Casil to push past him as the Thalmor entered the walkways they were on. She hurled a ball of fire at the first guard, hitting him square in the chest. The Thalmor was knocked back, sending the two guards behind him tumbling over while Jenassa and Sterlas pushed forward to knock them over the edge of the walkway. Casil motioned for Esbern to follow, covering his back while they followed behind the two more melee-oriented party members.

“Stop them! Get them! Don’t let them escape!” A Justicar shrieked from one of the cells, trying to push himself around one of the guards so he could get a shot at the fleeing party. A bolt of electricity snapped from the Justicar’s fingers towards Esbern, but Casil blocked it with a ward. She backed up with the ward up, waiting until the Justicar was out of sight before she turned back around and ran to catch up with the other three.

The upper section of the Ratways had become a maelstrom of fighting. The Thalmor’s sudden and very unwanted invasion had turned into a all-out war between them and the local thugs. While most of the thugs stood little chance against the well-armed guards, it was a much needed distraction from the four the Thalmor were  _ actually  _ looking for. Even when the guards saw the four on their way out, they rarely had a chance to try to stop them before getting mobbed by more angry thugs.

Jenassa and Sterlas stayed shoulder to shoulder, barging their way through anyone who stood in their way. Esbern stayed closed behind them, helping Casil cast spells at anyone who managed to get back up behind them. With the exit in sight, Casil motioned to Esbern to collapse the tunnel behind them, hopefully buying them a chance at escaping. With Esbern’s help, a bombardment of spells caused the worn ceiling of the Ratway to collapse in a downpour of stone and dirt, and the party was gone before the dust had a chance to settle.

 

The group had only reached the edge of the Rift by the time they set up camp, long after the sun had set and they were certain the Thalmor weren’t following them.

“I think we’ve finally lost ‘em,” Sterlas said, looking back down the trail they’d followed. “I haven’t smelled ‘em since we left Riften.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Jenassa said, throwing another log on the fire. They tried to keep the flames low, but there was no way they were going to go the night without fire either.

Esbern let out a weary sigh, running a hand over his head before leaning back against a fallen log. “I suppose it was only a matter of time until they found out where I was hiding,” he muttered, before lifting his gaze to look at the party. “I hope this means that Delphine has found the dragonborn?”

Casil slowly raised her hand.

Esbern looked to Casil in surprise, before sighing in relief. “Thank Talos. I was afraid she might not have. If my research is correct, i’m afraid we are in grave danger.”

Casil’s lips pursed tightly, letting her hand slowly fall.

“Great,” Jenassa muttered, unrolling her bedroll. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

Casil swallowed dryly, before making a hand motion for a further explanation.

“If the annals and my research are right, then the World-Eater has returned. And if Alduin is back… our world does not have much time left before he devours it,” Esbern said wearily.

Sterlas threw him a look. “Like, literally or-”

“Quite possibly, literally.”

Casil’s gaze fell to the fire. She didn’t need to look up to know that everyone’s eyes were on her. So, that was what she was up against. That was what she was supposed to be saving the world from. That was her destiny, her goal, her purpose. To stop this  _ World-Eater _ from doing exactly what his name implied. She swallowed slowly.  _ Alduin.  _ ‘Alduin was that black dragon. He’s the one who brought back the dragon with Delphine. And I think he’s the dragon who attacked Helgen.’

Sterlas translated for Casil slowly, a look of concern on his face.

Esbern tented his fingers in front of his mouth for a moment, his furrowed brow casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “So you’ve seen him. Are you sure it’s him?”

Casil nodded. ‘One of the dragons called him that. He’s the biggest dragon i’ve seen too.’ 

Not to mention she could  _ feel  _ it. That dragon… She shivered, remembering how he’d spoken to her when she’d been hiding behind the rock at the dragon mound. 

Esbern’s frown deepened, scratching his chin. “That is… concerning. When was it that you first saw him…?”

Casil thought for a moment. ‘Last fall,’ she signed finally.

Esbern stiffened. “If Alduin has been around since the end of fall… then we may not have as much time as I’d been hoping,” he muttered. “Tell me, dragonborn, how much of your voice have you learned to control?”

Casil’s jaw tensed, and all other facial expressions fell away to a cold, expressionless mask. She made a zero with her fingers.

“No voice means no… Voice,” Sterlas said, shifting to cut some meat and vegetables into a pot.

“I was… afraid of that,” Esbern said with a shaky sigh.

Silence fell over the camp, and Casil fought to keep her face steady.

“Do… do you know how to defeat Alduin?” Jenassa dared to ask.

Esbern reluctantly shook his head. “No, but I know where we can look. The Blades kept good records of the events that went on around them. They created a temple as an outpost, and if my annals are correct, then there should be a wall that was carved within it that records Alduin’s first defeat, in hopes that later generations would know how to defeat him when he inevitably returned.”

“Where is the temple?” Sterlas asked.

“It’s in the Reach on an island in the middle of the river, if my research is correct,” Esbern said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I do not know if that location has a name, but I know where to look.”

Sterlas hummed, nodding as he put a pot over the small fire.

Esbern’s attention turned to Casil, watching her for a moment as she stared at the flames below the pot. “You seem worried.”

Casil’s orange eyes jumped to look at him. ‘Can Alduin even be defeated?’ She signed suddenly. ‘You said that he had been defeated before, but now he’s back.’

Esbern nodded his head a bit in consideration, picking up a stick to push a log back into the fire that had been dislodged by the pot. “The Akaviri Dragonguard seem to believe there was. What it was, exactly, I cannot tell you. And why that did not defeat him the first time, I also do not know. Which is why we need to reach the temple.”

‘Do you think it requires the Voice?’ Casil quickly followed up, staring at Esbern intently.

Sterlas hesitated to repeat her question.

Esbern’s old blue eyes looked Casil over. He tapped his stick against the ground a few times, before setting the stick down and leaning back against the log with a heavy sigh. “I… I cannot say for certain, but… yes, I believe it very well might.”

Casil’s gaze returned to the fire again. She nodded her head, before her head drooped and she continued to nod vacantly. 

Silence fell on the camp again. Sterlas returned to cooking dinner until he could serve everyone sitting around the fire. 

Casil did not touch her’s. She poked at it a few times before setting it back down, turning to climb into her bedroll. Without another word, she pulled the flap over her head and turned her back to the fire.

The other three glanced at her, but none of them spoke until they were certain Casil was asleep.

“I guess we’d have to face this at some point,” Sterlas muttered, idly jabbing at the fire with the stick Esbern had grabbed earlier. He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand before shaking his head. “I shouldn’t’ve encouraged it.”

Jenassa reached over and rubbed Sterlas’s shoulder. “You did what you had to. None of us knew how this might end, or what we were even doing. If she is our only hope, then the best we can do is stand beside her no matter what might happen.”

Sterlas rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope ya right.”

“Besides,” Jenassa continued, scooting Casil’s abandoned bowl towards her with her foot, “if she was meant to save the world with the Voice, I doubt the gods would have allowed her to be born mute.”

Esbern nodded in agreement, but Sterlas spoke up.

“She wasn’t born mute. Ain’t what i’ve come to understand.”

Jenassa arched a brow, waiting for Sterlas to elaborate.

“Seems like she got sick from what i’ve pieced together. Ain’t been the same since. Ain’t like she’s totally mute either- ya ever hear the noise she makes if ya tickle her? It’s weird, but she makes noise,” Sterlas said, moving a coal.

“She’s a bosmer. They’re not known for getting  _ sick _ ,” Jenassa said. “And even if she isn’t fully mute, she seems mute enough that she can’t shout.”

“Ain’t immune though. I’m just sayin’. I don’t know. I’m just tryin’ to make sense of all of this,” Sterlas said in frustration. “Why would the gods let any of this happen?”

Esbern shook his head. “It’s hard to say. There are many gods and beings of great power out there who can effect these things for reasons we will never understand. Let us… let us hope that there is still some way for things to turn out in our favor.”

Sterlas glanced to Esbern at that comment, gritting his teeth at how the Blade phrased it, but he made no response.

The sound of crickets and crackling fire filled the silence.

“Let us go to Riverwood, get Delphine, and see what the wall has to tell us,” Esbern said finally. “There is nothing we can do to help this until then.”

Jenassa and Sterlas nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take watch first,” Sterlas offered. The other two nodded, each moving to their rolls before leaving Sterlas to the lonely night.

He glanced to look at where Casil was curled up. Was it the gods that had been cruel first? Or had she been the one to direct their ire? 


	12. XII - Vahzen [Truth]

Similarly to Riften, it’d been some time since Casil had wandered through the Reach. At one point, she’d spent most of her time out in the lawless wilds, moving from cabin to cabin each time she ran into trouble. But those times had long passed. But despite everything that was happening in the world around them, the Reach hardly seemed to have changed - and the Forsworn certainly hadn’t.

Casil had seen Karthspire before in passing, but the sheer size and population contained in the Forsworn camp back then had been enough to deter her from causing any trouble- and now the camp was bigger than ever. Nobody in the group expected to get to their destination without a fight. The camp crawled down the side of the valley and spanned across the river to the east side of the island that was their destination. Casil still didn’t fully understand who the Forsworn were or what their deal was, despite how long she’d lived in Skyrim. She knew that they weren’t particularly friendly, their clothing was sparse, and they usually hung around with hagravens. A good group for body parts in small numbers, a dangerous lot in anything more than five.

And there were far more than  _ five  _ in Karthspire. 

The five had left their horses at a small settlement some ways back, and traveled the rest of the distance to Karthspire on foot so as to be less noticable. Even in the dark of night, Karthspire was well lit with torches and fires that speckled the various bridges and platforms that made up the bulk of the camp. Even with most of the camp asleep or settled down for the night in their various tents and shelters, a handful of people were still mulling about.

The group huddled behind some bushes further up the hill, surveying the camp below.

‘So, where are we heading?’ Casil signed, scanning the camp below.

Esbern carefully scanned the island below with a spyglass, careful not to let the glass and metal catch the light from below. Soon, he motioned to one of the large ramp and staircases that lead up the hill to the rocky outcropping at the center of the large island. A cave entrance lay at the end of the path, a pair of large lit braziers burning on either side of the entry. “I believe that is our best bet. That cave must lead up to the entry to Sky Haven Temple.”

Casil nodded, trying to make out the cave far below.

“Do you believe we can sneak in?” Jenassa questioned, glancing more to Casil than anyone else.

“Well, they’ve got guards over there. And a few ‘round the camp. Nightwatch, obviously,” Sterlas said, using Casil’s spyglass to scout for trouble.

Casil scratched her chin with her thumb, before shrugging. ‘Don’t think it would matter then. There’s probably too many for them not to notice us. The entry is too well lit and too hard to reach without being seen,’ she signed. 

Jenassa sighed, tightening her grip on her sword. “Do you think we can handle the whole camp if they wake up?”

Delphine shifted at the back of the group. “If we get inside the cave fast enough, we might be fine. At least then we can channel them through one entry. Perhaps the Temple will have a way to close them off from the inside.”

Casil nodded her head. ‘Is everyone ready?’ She signed, looking to the rest of the team. Each of the others nodded, and once she had confirmation she hurried out from behind the bushes. One by one, the other four followed her, trying to get as far down the hill and towards the bridge that spanned the river as they could before anyone noticed them.

It was the guards at the entrance of the cave that noticed the party first. As soon as they shifted and began to shout for their allies, Casil let loose a fireball, knocking one of them to the ground. Between the guard’s shouting and the sudden burst of flames, those awake on the bank side of the river began to head down, clamouring to wake the others.

“Get up to the cave and get inside,” Jenassa ordered, motioning for Casil and the two Blades to get onto the bridge as she drew her sword. “Sterlas and I will follow you up.”

Casil nodded, pulling herself up and onto the bridge behind Delphine. Delphine rushed ahead, letting out a battle cry as she charged the guards with her blade. Jenassa got onto the bridge behind Esbern, using a shield to help block a few of the incoming arrows from the Forsworn above. Sterlas was the last to get on the bridge, waiting for Esbern and Delphine to disappear into the cave before he shifted forms.

Delphine, Esbern and Casil managed to push their way into the cave, which they soon realized wasn’t really a cave at all. The tunnel only remained underground briefly before the ceiling opened up above them. Ancient carvings had been chiseled into the walls, stretching up on either side of the canyon. The architecture wasn’t familiar to Casil - it certainly wasn’t nordic or dwemer. 

Delphine pushed the local briarheart to the ground, pulling her sword out of their chest. “Let’s hurry, before anyone catches up,” she said, hurrying towards the canyon ahead.

“This must be entry,” Esbern said, following behind once Casil caught up to Delphine. He pushed ahead of the other Blade, noticing a set of pillars on the right side of the the canyon atop a worn stone ramp. Esbern hurried up the ramp first, crouching down in front of the stone pillars. He reached out, carefully turning the middle pillar to get a look at what was written on the different sides. Casil and Delphine made their way up behind Delphine, carefully leaning over Esbern to get a look at the pillars. Slowly, Esbern turned the middle one, causing a low grinding noise as it turned from one face to another. “Yes, these must be the key to getting inside. These symbol are Akaviri in origin. One of them must be for Dragonborn, we might be able to proceed.”

Casil arched a brow at Esbern as he pulled away, leaving space for Casil to step forward. Was he not just going to turn them himself? There was no way he didn’t know what symbol they were looking for- so was this some sort of test? Her eyes narrowed a bit, but the sound of fighting just outside of the cave told her that she didn’t have a lot of time to just sit around. She crouched down in front of the pillar, turning it herself to see the symbols in detail. None of them looked familiar. Casil hated to admit that despite all her reading, she knew nothing about Akaviri culture in any shape. Why couldn’t Esbern just tell her which one was the damn dragonborn symbol? Exhaling in frustration, Casil paused on one of them. Two lines curved up into a sort of heart shapes. Dragons, maybe, if she had to squint at it. Certainly her best guess if she was going to go on what they looked like alone, which right now was her only guess. Casil let the heart-shaped symbol rest on the arrow that marked the front of the pillar, before turning the other two pillars to that symbol as well with a silent prayer to the Divine. 

There was a rumble in the walls that caused loose dust and rubble to roll down the cliff face, before a bridge that had been cut flush with the wall unhinged. Casil jumped back as the stone slab lowered down, coming to rest precariously on a well-eroded lip on the ramp.

Esbern clapped his hands together in delight. “Perfect!” he exclaimed, wasting no time in ushering Casil across the stone. 

Casil stumbled ahead, trying to get one more look back at the cave entry for Jenassa and Sterlas. The sound of battle still echoed out from outside, and neither Esbern nor Delphine Casil a chance to linger back any longer. 

The bridge led to another tunnel, which made a short turn before opening up into a very crudely carved out chamber. Esbern cast a mage light, allowing it to illuminate the room in front of them once they were out of the light of the canyon. A tiled floor stretched out before them, each tile carved with the same symbols as the pillars. A few more pillars of stone stretched into the ceiling, with a hole bored into the top of each of them.

Esbern let the light float upward. “It must be a puzzle,” Esbern began, scanning the room.

Puzzle her ass. Casil spotted a chain with a handle on the far wall of the cavern, and before Esbern could continue, Casil was booking it across the tiles. Fireballs burst out of the pillars each time her foot landed on a tile that wasn’t the dragonborn’s symbol, but Casil paid it no mind. She threw up a ward with one hand, and everything that got past it Casil carefully absorbed. She made one more leap onto the platform under the chain before pulling it. There was a grinding noise under the floor, and the fireballs cast from the pillars ceased. Casil turned to the Blades, making a motion for them to hurry up this time.

Esbern let out a panicked exhale, closing his eyes tightly. “Please, be a bit more careful,” he sighed in exasperation. “We don’t need to lose you to something that is so simple to avoid.”

Casil rolled her eyes, waiting by the entry to the next area as Delphine and Esbern crossed across the floor. Wearily, she glanced to the direction they’d just come. Jenassa and Sterlas hadn’t made it yet. She felt her stomach churn uneasily. They better make it.

The tiled room was connected to the next room by a short tunnel, before leading out into a large open room. A crevasse stretched across the room, bridged by another slab of stone. On the far side of the room was a giant stone face with a large carved circle laying in the ground before it. 

Casil hesitated at the edge of the bridge, gripping at her robes in worry. Delphine and Esbern glanced down at Casil before heading across, giving her a chance to walk the bridge at her own pace this time.

Esbern held the mage light up to the stone face, allowing the magic to illuminate the giant carving. “This is the seal to keep those who weren’t meant to be in here out. It’s remarkably well preserved. It… well, it will require some of your blood, Casil. Only a dragonborn can open the seal,” he explained, turning to look at Casil.

She shuffled across the bridge, taking a deep breath. Her eyes scanned the seal wearily. The cold, lifeless eyes of the face stared down at her as she made her way to the center of the stone circle. Casil couldn’t bring herself to look up at it. She felt like it was staring down at her in judgement. Behind that door, from what she understood, would be the temple the wall was stored in. Behind the seal was the answer to if she could even defeat Alduin, if the world was going to end or not, if she could  _ do anything  _ to stop it. 

Casil extended her hand to Esbern. Esbern hesitated, before pulling a knife off of his belt. Carefully, Casil took it and crouched down, extending her hand. She stared at her palm for a second. Did she want to find out the answer to those questions? Was she  _ ready  _ to find it out? 

She didn’t have a choice. Casil took a deep breath, resting the knife on her hand before drawing the blade across her palm. Her face contorted in mild pain, before she held her hand out before her and squeezed it tightly so the blood would fall down on the seal. It took a second cut across her hand to have enough blood for the giant carving to finally rumble before opening up, revealing the doorway behind it.

Casil wiped the knife off on the hem of her robe before offering it back to Esbern, not rising up from where she was crouched.

Esbern awkwardly took it and returned it to his belt, looking towards the doorway. He gave a awkward nod to her, before passing through the doorway and continuing into the temple. Delphine looked to Esbern, moving to grab Casil, but Esbern motioned for her to leave her be. Delphine pursed her lips, before following after her companion.

Casil watched the edge of Esbern’s mage light slip around the corner and out of view, leaving Casil in the darkness alone. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness around her. 

Behind that door was the answer to everything she was afraid of. All the answers she’d been looking for, all the answers she’d been avoiding. 

The soft orange light of a torch crept up behind her, casting her shadow up the hallway before her. A few more drops of blood dripped from the end of her fingers and onto the seal below as Sterlas and Jenassa crossed the bridge, coming to stop behind her as they stared up at the open doorway.

“Casil…” Sterlas began, his voice edged in concern. Casil didn’t respond, staring ahead into the darkness of the doorway ahead. “Where did Esbern and Delphine go?” He asked slowly. Casil motioned to the door ahead. Jenassa gave Sterlas a worried look, but Sterlas took a step forward and gave her a firm pat on her shoulder. “...When you’re ready then.”

Casil closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she tilted her head up. She carefully focused on healing the cuts on her hand for a moment before standing up, nodding her head to Sterlas and Jenassa. She had to face it. There was no running away anymore.

Delphine was waiting for Casil further inside, holding her own torch this time. Remnants of the Blade’s last occupancy millenia before scattered the ruins around them, disturbed only by spiders and rats. Scattered pieces of armor, moldy remains of paper, toppled skeletons of furniture…

“Esbern went ahead. We… found the wall,” she said, clearing her throat. 

Casil lifted her head up, trying to muster as much of her pride and bravery as she could. Delphine looked Casil over before giving a slight nod, leading the three of them through the temple.

The Wall of Alduin was a magnificent carving, spanning the entire length of the far wall in the temple’s main hall. The carvings didn’t look like they’d degraded at all, and was undoubtedly the best preserved relief Casil had ever seen. Esbern stood at one end of it, muttering to himself as he slowly made his way from one end to the other. His mage orb hung close by, allowing him to examine every tiny detail of it.

“They predicted it  _ all _ ,” Esbern said in amazement, his voice echoing in the vast, empty chamber. “Alduin’s return, the Civil War, even the Oblivion Crisis! Everything was prophesied on this wall, and it looks as if it were cared yesterday!”

Casil slowly made her way up the stairs that lead to the platform the carving had been built on, but the other three remained below. She scanned the wall herself. The dark stone towered above her, easily four times her height. The image of dragons burning a city and sending people fleeing for their lives marked the start of the wall, imagery that made Casil have a bad feeling about what the rest of it depicted. Esbern had paused at the center of the wall, looking over the carving there. Casil moved to join him, standing silently next to him with a look of worry until he glanced down at her. Before them towered a giant carving of Alduin, plummeting from the sky coiled in what looked to Casil like flames. Three people stood before him, faces turned up to the heavens as whisps curled from their mouths to Alduin. Casil reached up, touching the misty power rising out of the three heros. Her fingers traced the lines up as far as she could reach, before she looked to Esbern in questioning and worry.

Esbern took a deep breath, letting his mage light float back to illuminate the whole middle of the mural. “The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Much of this wall is depicted in allegories and symbolism, but from what I can understand, it seems that these nord Tongues - the masters of the Voice - used a shout against Alduin.” He reached his hand up, trailing his fingers over a symbol carved above the older man at the center of the wall. “This is the Akaviri symbol for ‘Shout’. Now, what this shout is… it does not say. It presumably is something specific to dragons, or perhaps Alduin himself. But even at the end of the wall, where it speaks of the Last Dragonborn and Alduin’s return, it does not specify what exactly was used.”

Casil did everything in her power to keep her face from faltering. She pulled her hand away from the wall, taking a single step back. The shadows cast from the mage light danced mockingly around Alduin’s illuminated visage, looming ominously over her. Her eyes scanned the lines of the Tongues’ shouts, tracing them up to Alduin over and over again.

Casil clenched her hands into fists. Sharply, she turned her back on the wall and made her way back down the stairs. Esbern turned to watch Casil walk back the way they’d come, a frown pulling at his lips. Sterlas and Jenassa did the same, throwing each other looks of uncertainty in whether or not they should stop her.

“So that’s it?” Delphine snapped in disbelief. “She’s just going to walk away?”

“She can’t shout,” Sterlas muttered quietly, looking over to the wall himself.

Delphine whipped around to look at him, her braided hair snapping around her shoulder at the suddenness of the motion. “What!? You’re only  _ now  _ telling me this!?”

Jenassa narrowed her eyes. “We thought it might be obvious at this point,” Jenassa said dryly, tightening her grip on her torch.

Delphine looked to Esbern in panic. “So that’s… this is it? Alduin can only be defeated with a shout, and the dragonborn can’t us them!?”

Esbern swallowed, turning back to look at the wall. “...It would seem that way,” he said after a long pause, his voice weary.

Delphine stared at Esbern in disbelief, but couldn’t manage up another remark.

Sterlas turned to follow after Casil, shaking his head.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Delphine snapped, watching Sterlas walk away in shock.

“After the dragonborn. What do ya think?” Sterlas grunted, not bothering to turn his head back to look at Delphine.

Delphine’s glare turned to Jenassa, but the dunmer paid Delphine no mind. She paced after Sterlas, chin held high. Delphine’s fingers tightened around her own torch in anger, but there was nothing she could do to stop them.

 

Casil was well on her way out by the time Sterlas and Jenassa exited the cave. The two gave her room, figuring it was best to give her some space. She had a lot to take in.

 

Casil pushed Maehaur relentlessly. The sun had just cracked on the horizon by the time she’d saddled him up and left town, but even as evening started to fall with little rest she pushed Maehaur forward. The Throat of the World towered ahead of them, the tip of its spire lost in the clouds above. Even what little was visible of the mountain put all the neighboring peaks to shame, dwarfing them with its incredible size.

If anyone had an answer, it was the Greybeards now. Casil scrambled for solutions, trying to think of something,  _ anything _ , that might save them.

Save  _ everyone. _

No matter how hard she tried, there came a point where Casil could no longer hold back the tears. 

She was going to fail everyone. It was going to be her fault that the world came to an end, that Alduin devoured everyone and everything. She was going to fail being the hero that she was supposed to be. She had been chosen as the only one who could stop a world-ending prophecy, and she was going to be the first hero to fail at her task. And that was going to lead to everyone’s death. 

All because she was mute.

Casil’s thin fingers reached up to her throat, her other hand gripping Maehaur’s reigns tight. Her whole life she had struggled with her muteness. She had been tormented and harassed for it. Outcast for it. And she fought to accept it, to be fine with it, to deal with it and believe that she did not need it. 

For what? 

For it to be the reason she was going to fail everyone? For it to be the reason the world was going to end?

Her fingers dug into her skin, leaving red crescent-shaped gouges as she sunk her nails in deep. 

It wasn’t fair. The world was going to end because she couldn’t talk, all because something had happened before she was even old enough to remember it. All because the stupid Thalmor, and because of the stupid Green Pact, and because of… of…  _ Divines  _ knew what.

All because of things outside of her power. Like being dragonborn in the first place. Why her? Why was she, a bosmer from Valenwood, the Last Dragonborn? Why had she been chosen? And then why had she been  _ abandoned?  _

Her mind scrambled for an answer, a weak sob escaping her as she leaned forward against Maehaur’s neck. 

Akatosh had picked Saint Alessia as a dragonborn, hadn’t he? And all of the Emperors of Cyrodiil had been Dragonborn under Akatosh’s watch, all up until the Oblivion Crisis. Talos had been a dragonborn, hadn’t he?

And here she was. A mute dragonborn who was supposed to use her non-existent voice to save the world. Was she just failing to use her power? Was she supposed to still be able to use it?

 

The moon was high on the horizon by the time that Casil grew too tired to continue trying. Her throat burned with every attempt to scream, to shout, to  _ Shout _ . And yet, nothing but pitiful noises between sobs could come out, and certainly no mystical power manifested itself.

Casil slouched in her saddle, only just managing to stay on while Maehaur dragged onwards. The horse snorted, shaking his head tiredly. Weakly, Casil reached out and rubbed the horse’s neck. They had to keep going. There had to be a solution or an answer  _ somewhere _ . 

Her mind pulled back to the note in her bag. Was there a dragonborn before Saint Alessia…? There had been, at least, from what the note said. If there was, maybe there was something the Greybeards could tell her. If it was true, they would know. If there was  _ any  _ other possibility or solution, they would know. She had to reach them as soon as she could.

She stared at the dark road ahead, fighting to keep her eyes open. She had to keep going. She had to find an answer.

She had to find something....


	13. XIII - Hahnuue - Aak [Dreams - Guidance]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for leaving kudos and ESPECIALLY FOR LEAVING COMMENTS... I know i'm god awful at replying but they rrly mean a lot and help motivate me to write.
> 
> Also, if anyone has an opinion, would you rather that I post chapters with dovahzul as dovahzul with english translations, or english with dovahzul translations?
> 
> And, along the lines of dovahzul, I have started to expand out and make up some dovahzul to fill in some space where the canon language is just... lacking. After spending hours on this chapters re-writing just a few sentences to try to use the whole of 700 canon words we have, I decided to say fuck it.

Suffocating. 

It was suffocating. The world felt like it was closing in, a tiny box, a rat in a cage. The feeling of pacing the same path over, and over, and over. The creeping edge of restlessness that bordered on a wild, uncontrollable urge to move until there was no moving left to be done. The feeling of one’s skull in a vice, the pressure growing steadily more until it cracked. 

The mocking walls of the aviary again that felt sharper, tighter, closer than ever. The feeling that, just beyond the endless black expanse that the gaps between the lattice implied, there was  _ freedom _ . The world waited, just out of grasp. Just beyond the razor-sharp thorns of the briar that snaked through every discernable hole. Just beyond the veil. 

The Traitor’s gaze lifted, though it was nearly impossible to tell. Had it not been for the subtle lift of his mighty head, they doubted they’d had noticed. His movements were languid, tired. The cage felt like it only closed tighter, but they had no desire in getting any closer to the monstrosity that lay trapped at the center of the cage. 

“ _[Hi los sizaan, geh?](x)_ ”

The Traitor’s voice sounded taunting. 

The monster on the other side of the cage coiled, claws digging into the lattice despite the pain digging into them from the thorny briar.

The Traitor chuckled.  _ “[Hi bo het naal paar. Hi yah miiraad.](x) _ [ _ ” _ ](x)

Their eyes narrowed distrustfully. The stark light filtered through the cage, casting creeping and changing shadows over the being before them.

The Traitor shifted, his chains tightening around his giant form as he shifted as far out of the tar pit as his bindings would allow him. Acid dribbled onto the ground with sharp hisses, eating away at the floor. 

They pushed back, pressing themselves further against the cage wall as the Traitor’s head came to loom over them.

“ _[Hi mindok ni hin vazah sil. Nid…](x)_ ” The myriad of green eyes along the monster’s body all turned to stare down at the smaller form before him. “ _[Hi mindok. Nuz, hi nu sahvot nii. Folaas](x)_ . ”

The cage prevented the other from moving any further.

“ _[Hi nis kos hahdrimi. Hi yah mindok do hi, mal dovah…?](x)_ ”

Dovah.  _ Dovah.  _

They knew that. They had always known, hadn’t they? Had they just simply denied it?

His eyes narrowed, the yellow orbs scanning the Traitor’s face carefully. Answers. Knowledge. Knowledge. They knew that word. They understood that. Intention. Answers. Solutions to their fear. He was listening. He had no other choice.

“ _[Zu’u aal aak hi. Daar hahnu los nid folaas. Mu los dez grind. Hi proth aaki, hi yah zu’u ko faasiil, faaziil sosiil. Hi paar mindoki.](x)_ _ ”  _

It was true, wasn’t it? When was the last time this dream had occurred…? 

When they had understood their true nature. They had been afraid, confused. They had not stopped feeling that since. It offered guidance.

But he was the  _ Traitor. Tahroiin _ _. _

Their fangs flashed. They could not trust that. But they needed help. They knew they needed help - that was what they’d been doing earlier in the day, right? 

The Traitor chuckled, straining against his chains. “ _[Hi proth aaki. Hi dreh ni lost krost miiraad. Hi mindok daar.](x)_ ” His claws dug into the ground, voice a hiss. “ _[Stin hi. Kren daar ahstiifahs. Dumaavu zu’u aak hi. Dumaavu zu’u maai hi. Hi bo het - daar fen kos zahkiin. Daar nis kos dii hanuue ol zu’u mindol.](x)_ ”

Dream. It was just a dream. They would wake up. This was all because of the wall. That stupid wall. This stupid prophecy. That’s why the Traitor looked like a dragon. That’s why everything was so clear now. Just a active imagination.

The cage shifted, but did not fade. The Traitor watched, his head turning to watch the aviary’s pattern changes under the other dragon’s talons. “ _[Mu nis filok nol het. Nii los vohiid. Zu’u lost drey unt.](x)_ ” The Traitor closed his eyes, his head lulling back with a exhale of searing smoke that smelled far, far too real. “ _ Zu’u lost drey unt… _ ” All of the eyes along his scales snapped open at the same time in a eerie wave-like motion, locking on the smaller visitor at the same time. “ _[Hi fen ru thekaan do miiraadde, mal dovah… Zu’u mindok daar. Zu’u mindok daar rok lost drey daal. Un tiid… un tiid fen ru mal. Fah ney mu. Muz… hi...](x)_ ” 

They could feel those dark orbs focus on them again as well, making them desperately wish that they could just wake up.

“ _[Hi ni ahstiifahs. Hi lost bovul daar odiin. Mindol nau rotei… Zu’u nid doz tol hi fen daal het, ol hi us.](x)_ ” Finally, the Traitor’s body sunk back into the oil, leaving only some of his spines sticking out as his head came to rest on the earth again.   _ “[Ahrk, fod hi ni, ruz iiviik zu’u sizaan hahdrimi ahst lingrah laat. Nii aal ni dokaar naakal, fod un tiid vahzah vounslaad. Mu sil nid doz fen oblaan mal tiid naal zaakaar haal](x). _ _ ”  _

Tired. They felt tired too. Not as tired, not as trapped, no, but it was still there. So tired… so trapped… tired… tired…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi los sizaan, geh? - You are lost, yes?
> 
> Hi bo het naal paar. Hi yah miiraad. - You come here with desire. You seek a path.
> 
>  
> 
> Hi mindok ni hin vazah sil. Nid… - You know not your true nature. No...
> 
>  
> 
> Hi mindok. Nuz, hi nu sahvot nii. Folaas. - You know. But you have yet to believe it. A mistake.
> 
>  
> 
> Hi nis kos hahdrimi. Hi yah mindok do hi, mal dovah…? - You cannot be my mind. You seek knowledge from me, little dragon?
> 
>  
> 
> Zu’u aal aak hi. Daar hahnu los nid folaas. Mu los dez grind. Hi proth aaki, hi yah zu’u ko faasiil, faaziil sosiil. Hi paar mindoki. - I can guide you. These dreams are no mistake. We are fated to meet. You need my help, and you seek me in your fear, your pain, your sorrow. You desire my knowledge. 
> 
> Hi proth aaki. Hi dreh ni lost krost miiraad. Hi mindok daar. - You need my help. You do not have another choice. You know that.
> 
> Stin hi. Kren daar ahstiifahs. Dumaavu zu’u aak hi. Dumaavu zu’u maai hi. Hi bo het - daar fen kos zahkiin. Daar nis kos dii hanuue ol zu’u mindol. - Free me. Break these chains. Allow me to help you. Let me teach you. You come here - this must be the reason. This cannot be my dreams as I thought.
> 
>  
> 
> Mu nis filok nol het. Nii los vohiid. Zu’u lost drey unt. - We cannot escape from here. It is hopeless. I have tried.
> 
> Hi fen ru thekaan do miiraadde, mal dovah… Zu’u mindok daar. Zu’u mindok daar rok lost drey daal. Un tiid… un tiid fen ru mal. Fah ney mu. Muz… hi... - You will run out of options, little dragon. I know this. I know that he has returned. Our time… our time will run short. For both us us. But… you...
> 
> Hi ni ahstiifahs. Hi lost bovul daar odiin. Mindol nau rotei… Zu’u nid doz tol hi fen daal het, ol hi us. - You have fled this cage. Think on my offer… I have no doubt that you will return here, as you have before.
> 
> Ahrk, fod hi ni, ruz iiviik zu’u sizaan hahdrimi ahst lingrah laat. Nii aal ni dokaar naakal, fod un tiid vahzah vounslaad. Mu sil nid doz fen oblaan mal tiid naal zaakaar haal. - And, if you don’t, then perhaps I have lost my mind at long last. It might not matter anyways, if our time truly is limited. My existence no doubt will end in a short time by either hand.


	14. XIV - Monahven [Throat of the World]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Miraak will actually start showing up in two or three chapters i'msosorry

The sound of Maehaur’s hooves on the cold stone and the bite of the freezing wind at the tips of her extremities finally shook Casil awake. Her heavy eyes cracked open, before snapping immediately closed again when the blinding white of the snow in the sun hit her eyes. It took her a moment to open them again, slowly letting them adjust as she straightened herself in the saddle. 

Maeuhaur snorted once Casil managed to get a look around. The Throat of the World…? Casil blinked once her eyes had adjusted. They were a good ways up the side of the mountain, and many of the 7000 steps winded back and forth below them. The sun was already starting its descent in the sky, telling Casil that she must have passed out for the bulk of the day. That said, she was shocked to see how far they had gotten. Had Maehaur not stopped since they’d set out? It was that, or she’d been asleep for over a day, and she was truly hoping that it was not that. Casil rubbed her eyes, inhaling slowly as she regained her bearings. Her eyes stung and were still sore from crying, and she could feel the stiffness from falling asleep in the saddle. How she had managed to stay on was beyond her, but she wasn’t complaining.

Casil reached out and stroked Maehaur’s mane in silent thanks, promising him all the hay and carrots he could eat when they had a chance to rest up again. Gently, she pulled on the reigns once the path evened out, before slipping off of his back so he no longer had to carry her. The horse gave another snort, clearly exhausted, but he made a motion that he’d continue along side Casil to the top. She reached up and pat his cheek before continuing ahead.

It was the least she could do anyways. It wasn’t like they were going to be around much longer. Casil’s eyes cast to the ground, watching the snow crunch under her feet as they ascended the last few flights of stairs to High Hrothgar. The World Eater could only be defeated by a shout she probably couldn’t use.

The dragon skeleton had not moved from where it’d fallen a few months prior. The only difference was a decent snowplough that had gathered on the wind-facing side, and a handful of icicles that had developed inside of its ribcage. Maehaur’s ears tilted backwards, shaking his head nervously as Casil lead him around the fallen beast. There wasn’t much that high up for the horse, but she was thankful to see that there was at least  _ some  _ high mountain plant life peeking through the snow for Maehaur. She moved over to a tree that had the greatest amount of greenery, tying him up carefully. If nothing else, maybe the Greybeards had something. 

Maehaur reached out and pulled off a chunk of the pine tree’s branch, not particularly pleased to be eating it but hungry enough to do so anyways. Casil stroked the horse’s neck for a few more minutes, taking a deep breath as she tried to gather her courage again. She was up here in search of more answers, in search of  _ hope _ . She glanced back down the path they’d traveled. She hadn’t seen anyone since she’d left, or since she woke up. She’d left Jenassa, Sterlas, Delphine and Esbern in the dust. Had they followed her? Had they been able to track where she went?

Casil sighed. Maybe it didn’t matter if they did. But if anyone could figure it out, it was Sterlas. If he needed to find her, she had a feeling he’d be able to. At last, Casil turned to High Hrothgar, before heading in.

The doors opened with a great gust of wind, sending the usual cloud of snow into the building before she could close the great doors behind her. The monastery was silent as usual, and nobody lingered in the main hall when she entered. Casil paused at the entrance, hugging herself as she scanned the building once more. With no sign that anyone was going to greet her, she turned to pace into one of the side halls, hoping to find  _ someone  _ there. The fires were still lit in their braziers, so the Greybeards had to be around still.

Arngeir was meditating in an alcove similar to the one she and Sterlas had rested in when they’d first visited High Hrothgar. He made no motion that he had noticed her as she approached, but Casil could not find the courage to disturb him. Instead, she shrunk down against the opposing wall, pulling out her notebook before carefully writing out what she wanted to ask and say. 

Casil wasn’t sure how long it was before Arngeir finally spoke. “What is it that we may help you with this time, dovahkiin?” the old man asked finally, turning his head slowly to look to her.

Casil looked sleepily up from her notebook, almost about to doze off again. She lifted her notebook, turning it so he could read what she had written on the page. ‘I seek the Shout that was used to bring down Alduin.’

Arngeir’s weary eyes scanned the page with a cool gaze. “I must ask where you learned of such a Shout, and I must wonder what you plan on achieving by knowing it,” Arngeir said, finally turning so that he could face Casil without getting up.

‘The Blades showed me to the Wall of Alduin. They told me it was my destiny to stop Alduin. So, I need to know it. If I am supposed to fulfill my destiny.’

Arngeir sighed, resting his hands in his lap. “Ah, the Blades. Sticking their noses into things they don’t understand, as usual,” Arngeir said with a shake of his head. He stroked his beard for a moment, before pushing himself to his feet. “Knowing the words of the Shout will not change the fact that you cannot use it.”

Casil grimaced, feeling the sting of his words. She quickly wrote a response, getting up as well. ‘Can’t you use it? Or one of the Greybeards? You can use shouts. Ulfric Stormcloak used shouts. I’ve seen  draugr use shouts. Why does it have to be  _ me  _ that knows it?’ She underlined ‘me’ with a rough scribble, brow knitted in confusion.

Arngeir started to pace down the hall, causing Casil to have to move after him. “The Thu’um can be used by those who are not dragonborn, yes. But it takes many, many years to learn a single word. And, even then, it will never be nearly as powerful as that of a dragonborn,” Arngeir explained, tucking his hands into his sleeves before him.

Casil felt her heart sink. She had to fight to force air through her lungs through the tightness in her chest before she could write another response. ‘Then what? You can’t help me? You can’t find someone who knows this well enough to use it? Alduin is coming back, and you’re just going to let him end the world?’

Arngeir glanced down at Casil, his face far more passive than Casil would like. “If Alduin is back, then perhaps it is time for this world to come to an end,” he said, and while his voice was sad, he conveyed no alarm. He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I have nothing more to say to you on this matter.”

Casil stopped following him, staring at him with a dumbfounded look. It took her a moment to fully process that she’d really heard him say that, and the second she had she snapped. She threw her journal aside before lunging forward, trying to tackle into the old man.

Arngeir had expected it, and calmly stepped aside out of the way so that Casil fell forward and onto the ground where her momentum took her. She hit the ground with a wince, quickly trying to push herself up so she could get another swing when a voice echoed down the hall.

“ _ Arngeir, rek los dovahkiin, strundu’ul. Rek fen tinvaak Paarthurnax _ .”

Casil paused, her fingers digging into the cold stone floor. Arngeir pursed his lips, scanning the empty hallway ahead of him for a long moment before bowing his head. Casil looked back to the old man, finishing pushing herself to the feet as she waited for his reaction.

“No… Einarth is right,” Arngeir said with a low sigh. “I am sorry, dovahkiin. I forgot what my duty is.” He straightened himself out, looking Casil over before he made a motion for her to follow him. “Since you cannot shout, I will lead you to where you might find an answer.”

Casil blinked, surprised by the sudden change in heart. She reached down and picked up her notebook and charcoal stick, silently thanking whichever Greybeard had spoken up before following after Arngeir.

The monk pushed the doors open to the courtyard out back of High Hrothgar, before heading towards the thin mountain trail that winded further up the mountain. Casil noticed the other Greybeards coming out to watch as well, but none followed them onto the path. Casil couldn’t blame them. A wicked, violent wind howled over the stony trail, more dense and violent than she’d ever seen. She could hardly see just a few feet past where the trail seemed to start.

“This path will take you up to the top of this mountain, to the Throat of the World. The weather here is dangerous, so I will assist you in your journey,” Arngeir said, though Casil could hear the slight resentment in his voice. Casil eyed the path wearily as the monk inhaled. “ _ Lok Vah Koor! _ ” 

The ripple of the shout pulsed through the winds ahead, and as the power passed through the winds stilled to a gentle breeze and snowfall. Wasting no time, Arngeir pushed down the path. “Swiftly,” he urged, clutching the hem of his robes in his hands to keep them out of his way.

Casil gave one more glance over her shoulder at High Hrothgar and the Greybeards who waited outside. One of them, who Casil could only assume was Einarth, gave her a nod. Casil gave him a firm nod of thanks in return, before hurrying after Arngeir. The winds returned to a violent howl behind them as Arngeir used his Voice to push forward, leaving them with little room for error.

 

 

The path was much longer than Casil had expected, and she understood why she needed to know the Shout to make it through the pass. The winds only got worse the further they got up, and no plant life existed past the start of the path. Just snow and scoured rocks existed in the limited windows of calm Arngeir shouted, before they disappeared behind curtains of rime and wind. But, at last, the path began to level out and the worst of the weather suddenly petered off as suddenly as it had begun. Arngeir slowed at the base  of one last path up, before motioning for her to proceed. Casil furrowed her brow, giving the monk a confused look, before she stepped forward.

A small, flat stretch of mountain lay ahead of her. A sea of clouds surrounded them, making it impossible to see anything below the top of the mountain. She could see the last stretch of rock that made up the very tip of the mountain, as well as a word wall. Slowly, Casil made her way up to the word wall, looking it over. Was this what they’d spoken of? Was the answer written on the wall? She paused in front of it, looking it over. Whatever text it had had since been scoured off by the winds and snow, along with most of the details of the decorative carvings and any broken edge. She reached out, tracing her fingers over the freezing stone. Only a few gouges remained, and none of them meant anything.

Before she could spend much time pondering over it, a dark shadow passed overhead. Casil flinched back, fire igniting in her hands as she frantically looked around for the source. Immediately, she regretted it - her eyes met the sun, and she stumbled back after bringing a arm up to cover her eyes. Damn it. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the burning orb out of her vision. She could feel a gust of wind kicked up by the giant wings of a dragon as it descended on the word wall. Dread claimed her heart, and Casil was certain that this was going to be it. She was going to die at the very top of the Throat of the World, at the claws of a dragon, that Arngeir seemed to have lead her up to.

But nothing happened. The light in Casil’s eyes finally faded, and slowly she lowered her arm and lifted her gaze to the beast perched upon the wall.

The dragon was far more ancient than any she’d seen before. Scars riddled almost every inch of his ivory-white body, and his wings were torn and tattered to the point that Casil was unsure how he even flew. A pair of ghostly white eyes gazed down at her from where his great  neck craned, and if it weren’t for the fact that he seemed to be truly staring at her Casil would have assumed he was blind. Most of the horns and spikes that covered his body were broken or chipped, and many of his teeth were in the same condition or missing entirely. His size was almost comparable to Alduin’s from what she could remember, and if nothing else he certainly dwarfed the other dragons she’d encountered.

Casil stared up at him in awe, jaw dropped slightly as she took in the sight of the magnificent dragon.

“ _ Drem Yol Lok _ ,” the dragon finally rumbled, lifting his head up high. “Greetings,  _ wunduniik.  _ I am Paarthurnax. Who are you…? What brings you to my  _ strunmah _ … my mountain?” he questioned. His voice shook snow and ice free from the wall he perched upon, and Casil could feel it reverberate in her chest.

It took Casil a moment to collect herself for a response. She looked around, lips pursed tightly as she tried to figure out how to reply to the old dragon. Quickly, she backed up, turning so she could write a response in the snow. She just hoped that it showed up well enough for him to read it, because she was unsure of if he could read tiny writing in her journal. Paarthurnax tilted his head, craning his neck to read what she had written.

‘I wish to find the shout to stop Alduin.’

To Casil’s surprise, Paarthurnax let out a low chuckle that felt akin to a small earthquake. “ _ Drem… _ patiences. There are formalities that must be observed, at the first meeting of two of the  _ dov _ … though you seem to fear speaking to me,” he hummed. His body shifted, lowering down. “By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu’um! Feel it in your bones! Match it, if your are dovahkiin!” The dragon rumbled, his scales rattling with the words. He took a great inhale of air, before breathing out a searing blast of fire against the ground below him. The snow melted and evaporated at the heat, causing a cloud of steam to rise up around him.

Casil covered her eyes again, feeling her heart sink. Once the worst of the fire had died down, she could see the symbol that had been inscribed into the mountain stone.  _ Yol. _

“A gift, dovahkiin.  _ Yol.  _ Understand fire as the dov do. Now, show me what you can do,” Paarthurnax commended, shifting again. “Greet me not as a mortal, but as a dovah!”

_ Yol.  _ Fire. Casil understood it. The power behind it. The destructive force of the flame, the driving, wild power inside of each dragon regardless of their elemental alignment. The shifting, the changing,  the uncontrollable and fleeting nature. She felt the knowledge pass through the symbol, making it feel once more like the wind had been knocked from her lungs. For a brief moment, every inch of her body felt as if it were fire itself, but not in a sensation of burning or of pain. Of fire itself, of its nature, of what it  _ was.  _ Casil closed her eyes, keeping hold of that fire.  _ Yol.  _ She took a deep breath, before opening her mouth.

The sound of the wind below, howling and shifting, but besides that, silence.

Casil slowly opened her eyes again, looking down at the fading embers of the symbol. Why had she thought that would work?

Why had she bothered coming up here?

Paarthurnax watched her, tail slowly swaying behind him before he looked to Arngeir. Casil’s shoulders slowly slouched in shame, feeling her heart once more sink and settle in the pit of her stomach. She heard Paarthurnax let out a low hum.

“You cannot use your Thu’um can you, dovahkiin…?” He asked. He did not seem angry, but it did not stop Casil from feeling the disappointment.

Her eyes grew heavy. What did she thinks he was going to achieve, coming up here? Her head slowly hung, trying her best to keep her emotions bottled inside. She managed the slightest shake of her head.

“ _ Dez munax _ .  _ Bormahu  _ has allowed you to walk a strange path,  _ krosis.  _ An event unforseen,  _ nuz ni ko hin suleyk. _ _ ”  _ He slowly shifted, his claws scraping against the word wall. “Yet, you seek the Word of Power that  _ mah _ , fell, Alduin, though you cannot use it?”

Casil gritted her teeth sharply, balling her hands into fists before looking up to him with pleading eyes. She nodded, fighting back pitiful tears.

“ _ Hi mindok…  _ I expected this, though, not in this way. That Alduin and the dovahkiin would return together…” He hummed again, making whatever snow and ice that hadn’t been melted by his shout rattle away. “I do not know the words in which you seek. No, they are beyond my understanding, beyond what I can comprehend. A shout made by  _ joor muz,  _ mortal men. But…”  Paarthurnax moved, climbing to the edge motioning with his head to a spot not far from the word wall.

Casil turned her head to look at it. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that it had been pointed out she wasn’t sure how she missed it. In a small space of the clearing, the snow that drifted through on the breeze moved significantly slower, slowing as it entered and speeding up as it left. The air inside of the space seemed to waver, shifting and distorting the scenery behind it as if looking through water or at an oasis. Casil looked the strange space over for a moment, before looking back at Paarthurnax in confusion.

“When Alduin was defeated the first time, he was not truly beaten, as you know. A  _ kel _ , a Elder Scroll as you would call it, was used to send Alduin adrift in time. As it seems, we merely sent him  to this time. If you were to obtain an Elder Scroll, then, perhaps… you could return to the beginning of the  _ tiid-ahraan _ , the time-wound. Then you might know the words you seek.”

An Elder Scroll. Casil took a deep breath. That… was not going to be easy, but neither was the rest of this it seemed.

‘Do you know where a Scroll could be found?’ she wrote.

The beast shook his head. “ _ Krosis.  _ I do not. I have not wandered far from this peak in many  _ eruvos,  _ in many years. Where the Scroll may have gone, or where a Scroll may be found, I do not know.”

Casil pursed her lips tightly. She glanced at Arngeir, before looking back to Paarthurnax. ‘Is there anyone else who can use the Shout, if I cannot?’

Paarthurnax looked at the question with weary eyes. His tail swayed behind him like an uneasy cat. “ _ Nid,  _ no… I am afraid I do not know of such a individual,” he said with a heavy sigh. “ _ Miiraad vomindok _ , you walk this path blind. But, if you truly are dovahkiin, you will find it.  _ Bormahu jun hi _ . There must be a way.”

Casil swallowed tightly, nodding her head as she gazed up at the dragon. She bowed her head to him, before moving to write one last note in the snow. ‘I will not fail,’ she wrote. ‘Thank you.’ She looked to the dragon once more, before turning to walk towards Arngeir.

Paarthurnax turned his head to watch her. “Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax rumbled, making Casil pause to look back at him. “ _ Dreh ni gahvon hind.  _ There is still hope. But you must listen,” he said, what stubs remained of his spines flaring out a bit, “I have spent many centuries acting on mediated thoughts. I suggest that you do the same,” he warned. “There are many who would not hesitate to use your  _ sulyek _ , your power, to their advantage… though you may believe you have none.” He spread out his wings, casting a great shadow across Casil before he took off to the sky. She watched him spiral up into the great blue above, snow and ice raining from his wings.

When Casil looked back to the monk, he shifted his weight to his other foot. He glanced down the path, contemplating. “Be weary of the Scroll, dragonborn,” he said slowly. “Such blasphemies are the calling of mages. Take your question to the College of Winterhold. There, they may be able to help you.”

Casil picked her journal back out of her satchel. ‘I don’t have a choice, do I? Unless you know of another way to defeat him.”

Arngeir took a few steps down the path. “Perhaps not. But this Shout was used once before, was it not?” he paused before the wall of vicious wind, turning his head to look back at Casil. “And here we are again. Have you considered that Alduin was, perhaps, not meant to be defeated? Those who overthrew him in ancient times only postponed the day of reckoning - they did not stop it. If the world is meant to end, so be it. Let it end, and be reborn.”

 

 

Casil was relieved that Urag gro-Shub had never found out that  _ she’d  _ been the one who had raided every unlocked bookshelf case some decade or so ago. She had not truly studied at the College for quite some time, but she was no stranger there - she’d come and gone for over a  _ century.  _ She’d studied there before half of the damn thing had slumped off into the ocean.

And, to her relief, Urag gro-Shub at least had given her  _ some  _ sort of direction to go. He’d looked at her as if she were crazy when she asked if they simply had a Scroll laying around, but instead of simply shooing her away he gave her what advice and knowledge he could provide - which, ultimately, lead Casil out to an iceberg adrift in the Sea of Ghosts.

Jenassa and Sterlas had managed to catch Casil in High Hrothgar, and though the two of them waited in Winterhold while Casil skimmed the books in the College they were glued to her side as she slowly entered the hollowed ice floe.

“Who the hell comes out here to study shit? What is even  _ in  _ a iceberg to study?” Sterlas muttered, wearily eyeing the frigid blue coloring of the tunnel walls.

“A Dwemer artifact, apparently?” Jenassa replied, trying her damndest to ignore the slow rocking of the ice.

“What, in the middle of a cube of ice in the ocean? Ain’t gotta come out here to study that shit. How’d it even get out here, anyways?” Sterlas grunted, looking over his shoulder back at Jenassa.

Casil rolled her eyes, carefully making her way slower into the ice until at last it opened up into a small almost cave-like burrow. They paused, scanning the contents of the room ahead of them. Rather roomy, no doubt thanks to the warmth of the torches lit up inside, with the very most basics of a livable study scattered out in it. A small path lead down to the ‘floor’, and at the far end of the room lay an enormous Dwemer-made cube that was still mostly buried in the ice. A spindly looking old man was hunched in front of it, draped in tattered robes as he madly scribbled notes on a very beaten notebook. 

Casil wearily knocked on the ice, hoping to catch his attention before she descended to be on the same level as him. She was shocked he hadn’t noticed or heard Sterlas’s bitching, though she had a feeling this man wasn’t… all there.

The mage almost jumped, before letting out a hum. “Hm?” He turned, looking up to the edge where Casil and her companions stood. 

Casil waved, awkwardly shuffling down the ramp now that the wizard had noticed them. He said nothing else though, which made the hair on the back of Casil’s neck stand on end. Was that… really all the madman was going to say about their arrival? Casil glanced back at Sterlas, waiting for him to explain why they were there.

Sterlas cleared his throat, eyeing the mage. “Ugh, Septimus Signus, right?” Sterlas began with discomfort. “We are looking for a Elder Scroll.” 

Casil braced herself, half expecting for him to look at her like she was crazy - not that the man before her wasn’t probably off his rocker himself. She was coming to him for a reason.

Septimus hummed, making a face of consideration. “Elder Scrolls. Indeed. The Empire. They absconded them,” Septimus began, reaching up to scratch his thinning beard. “Or, so they think. The ones they saw. The ones they  _ thought  _ they saw…”

Jenassa glanced at Casil and Sterlas out of the corner of her eye. “Do you, or do you  _ not  _ know where a Elder Scroll is?” Jenassa sighed, folding her arms.

“I know of one,” Septimus replied quickly. “Forgotten.  _ Sequestered. _ ”

Casil’s eyes lit up - but she could only hope that he really  _ did  _ know and wasn’t just… making things up.

“Where at? Could you take us?” Sterlas asked, equally hopefully - even though he was feeling like being hopeful was a mistake.

“Oh, no, I cannot go to it,” he said, shaking his head erratically. “Not poor Septimus. I… I has arisen beyond its grasp.”

Sterlas squinted, furrowing his brow. “I…  _ what _ …” he began. 

“Well, then just tell us where it is. If you know where it is, I imagine that will be enough,” Jenassa snapped, just wanting to get out there.

“Here,” Septimus stated simply. The other three exchanged glances until he continued. “Well, here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. On the cosmological scale, it’s all nearby.”

Jenassa took a tired step forward, but Casil stopped her. As irritating as dealing with this man was, they needed his answer. Jenassa cleared her own throat this time, straightening her back out. “Then… then where is it on  _ Mundus? _ ” Jenassa sighed.

Septimus turned, starting to walk back to the Dwemer cube. “You see this masterwork of the Dwemer?” He asked, waving his hand towards it.

“Oh, please tell me he ain’t gettin’ sidetracked…” Sterlas muttered lowly, taking a step forward.

Septimus continued as if anyone else had replied to his question. “Deep inside, their greatest knows. Septimus is clever among men, but he is an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own ways of reading the Elder Scrolls.” He turned to face the trio again, clearly not at all phased by them or their questions - which was, frankly, unsettling. “In the depths of Blackreach, one yet lies.”

Blackreach? Casil glanced at Jenassa and Sterlas to show that she had no idea where that  _ was _ . Apparently, neither did her companions. 

“Where is this ‘Blackreach?’” Jenassa asked, making sure Casil had out her map and journal for whatever notes Septimus was about to  _ hopefully  _ give them. 

“Under deep. Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond.”

Casil frowned, her charcoal scratching rapidly at the pages. 

“But not all can enter there,” he continued, walking over towards one of the messy desks pressed against a icy wall. “Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock.”

Casil raised her brows, shaking her brow before looking at Septimus in exasperation. They had only been in there for maybe five minutes, and already a headache was starting to form. ‘Just tell us what has to be done,’ Casil scribbled angrily on the page, showing it to Jenassa to repeat.

A weird grin came to Septimus’s face. He wiggled his fingers, joints cracking before he plucked a pair of items off of his desk. One sphere, and one cube - both items clearly Dwemer in origin. He turned back to the party, walking over before extending his hands. Jenassa took them cautiously, turning both in her hands before Casil took them from her. “One to unlock, one to record,” he said, nodding his head simply. The man turned, walking back towards the Dwemer cube. 

Casil made sure the cube and the sphere were secure in her satchel, looking back to Septimus. Did… they really need anything else from him? She looked over her notes. Alftand at least sounded like a place she’d heard of, and if nothing else she was certain she might be able to find its location if they returned to the College. She looked up to Sterlas and Jenassa, nodding to them to give him her thanks before she started to head back up the ramp.

“Thank you. I… suppose we will return here when we are done,” Jenassa said, looking at Casil with mild confusion. 

Septimus said nothing, now just standing still in front of the giant cube. Casil made a face, hurrying up the path rather swiftly. Creepy, weird, and absolutely insane. She just prayed his information was accurate, because if it wasn’t… they were screwed.

Jenassa and Sterlas followed behind her, both glancing down at Septimus a few times uneasily. “Fuckin’ crazy,” Sterlas muttered lowly. “We ain’t dealin’ with this any more then we have to, alright?”  
Casil nodded in agreement, but just as they reached the tunnel that lead back out Septimus suddenly spoke up again.

“You look to your left, you see one way. You look to your right, you see another. But neither is any harder than the opposite. But, the Elder Scrolls…” He trailed off, before shivering with a slight hop. “They look left and right in the stream of time. The future and the past are as one. Sometimes they even look up. What do they see then? What if they dive in?”

Casil looked down at him nervously, a frown tugging at her lips.

Septimus turned to look back at her, a wild smile on his face. “Then the madness begins.”


	15. XV - Kel [Elder Scroll]

Alftand was at least a location Casil could find - and while it wasn’t  _ incredibly  _ well known it had a location she could duplicate on a map and some basic information known about it. Better yet, it wasn’t too far away from the College. An old Dwemer ruin, as they expected, that people had not delved too deeply into. Which, on one hand meant that exploring it was going to be dangerous and likely lengthy, but also meant that it was unlikely that anyone else had beaten them to the punch. Though how someone could have known a Scroll was down there, or access it based off of what Septimus said… seemed out of the question.

The three of them did not skip on packing. They packed with the intention of being down in the ruins for possibly a week, the thought of which made Jenassa unhappy and Sterlas a tad skittish. Casil wasn’t really fond of the idea herself, but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice. This was the only lead they had, and not going wasn’t exactly an option.

Their travel to Alftand was uneventful. The ruin itself wasn’t that interesting either, all things considered. The old Dwemer structure still stood, sinking slowly into the still-snowy landscape. There were signs of activity around the site - which the three soon discovered to have come from a handful of frozen corpses that laid not too far into the ruins. 

Casil wasn’t sure if she was happier to see that the arrows wedged into one of the remaining bodies wasn’t Dwemer in origin, but the fact that it was a Falmer arrow almost balanced it out. If they weren’t going to struggle wading through Dwemer constructions, they were no doubt going to chop their way through hordes of the subterranean elves. Either way, it wasn’t going to be easy, and they weren’t getting the option to turn back.

 

Casil never spent an extended time in Dwemer ruins. They were dangerous and could spiral deep down into the earth much further than one might think. After almost  becoming lost in one in her early years, Casil had sworn to never spend too much time delving into one if she could avoid it. But Dwemer ruins were so vastly different than the nordic ones she usually investigated. The stone here was beautifully carved in much more angular designs, interlaid with gold metal accents and filigree. Even all of these millenia later, much of it remained shiny and corrosion-free; no doubt thanks to a layering of gold or some other non-oxidizing material. Piping and gears stretched along the walls and ceiling, and even now many parts of the ruins continued to grind away for purposes unknown. Levers, pulleys, and all matter of mechanisms were powered by steam that still flooded through pipelines in a genius that had still not been matched again. 

Casil ran her hands gingerly over one of the gates, much more careful now after she’d accidentally put her hand on a boiling pipeline. Where would the world have been if the Dwemer hadn’t disappeared? How much would change if they understood even a fraction of what the Dwemer had known? She exhaled slowly in disappointment as the group continued further down into the earth. She’d never know, no doubt. Maybe nobody would.

Most of the upper level they’d explored had been sparsely inhabited. There were signs that Falmer had been there anywhere from a few months ago to a few days ago, but the nomadic creatures had drifted off to somewhere else deeper in the ruins - and Casil just hoped that wherever that was, it wasn’t in their path. Alftand seemed to be much, much bigger than what they were seeing based off of some of the old metal maps that still clung to the stone walls, but all those extra segments were not of interest. Once the trio had deciphered some sort of elevator system lower down, that was the only path that mattered. And the further they traveled, the less snow and ice clung to the ruins, the more intact things were, and the more numerous the automatons became.

 

Sterlas put his foot onto the chestplate of a dwarven sphere, struggling to unwedge his weapon from the fallen automaton’s remains. Casil grimaced at the sound of grinding metal, trying her damndest to ignore it while she worked on healing a gash in Jenassa’s side. “By the Eight, I don’t think we’re anywhere  _ close  _ to bein’ out of here, and these damn things ain’t gettin’ any sparser,” Sterlas complained, letting go of his axe before trying to pry it out from another direction.

“It’s astounding that they’re still  _ running _ ,” Jenassa said, wincing. “They certainly outlived their makers.”

Casil nodded in agreement, double checking her work before pulling her hands away. She shuffled into her bag, pulling out her journal to check the map. ‘I think we should be getting to the lift soon, if i’ve been tracking us right.’

Sterlas accidentally lifted up the entire construct, before sighing and trying his best to shake it off while holding the axe with two hands. “Should we stop first before goin’ down further? I ain’t got any idea of how long we’ve been down here, but it’s feelin’ like it’s been a good long while,” he said, straining before the construct finally came loose from his axe. It hit the ground with a loud crash, and Sterlas kicked it in the side with a grunt.

Casil scratched her chin, looking the map over. ‘Probably. We’ve already had to backtrack a few times, and I think it’s safe to say it’s probably nighttime overhead.’

“I believe we’ve done a rather… thorough job of cleaning out the rooms around here,” Jenassa muttered, eyeing the passages they’d taken on accident that had only lead to dead ends or giant loops. “I believe there is a gate at the far end of this hall. As long as we secure that end, this area is probably far safer than anywhere that lift might be taking us.”

Sterlas slung his axe over his shoulder, nodding. “Alright. I’ll go move some metal in front of the other passages, yeah? So we don’t get jumped,” he muttered, turning down to walk to the two other halls that lead into the current room.

Casil closed the journal, making sure that it was easy to access as Jenassa moved to secure the gate. Hopefully, this lift was where they needed to be going - because if it wasn’t the rest of the ruins weren’t looking too good.

 

The slow clinking of gears and the painful scream of grinding metal was painful on everyone’s ears. The lift slowly descended down into the earth, every inch of metal that made up its mechanisms screeching in protest after millenia of being ignored. 

Jenassa, Sterlas and Casil huddled tightly at the lift’s center, watching the walls slowly grind past them in deep unease. The lift stuttered and jerked every few seconds, catching on unoiled parts or pushing over rubble that had fallen into the contraptions. Casil was certain she was going to crack her teeth from how hard she had her jaw clenched. The thousands of years this lift had gone unattended was freaking her out, and every uneven movement the lift made had her heart jumping between her throat and her stomach. The map had lead them to the right location, as far as the lift went, but no map that they’d seen had explained anything more as to where the lift  _ went _ . That said, the top of the lift was far deeper than Casil had ever been, and it seemed to go somehow even further. 

Already, things had been incredibly dangerous. Even automatons and Falmer aside, Casil had almost set off a pocket of natural gas with her fire, and more than one segment of the ruins had been filled with water, or leaking scalding gas, or threatening to collapse, or hundreds of other dangers that had Casil on edge. The automatons had only gotten more dangerous too, and numerous. What had started as just a few stray spiders had turned into a centurion or two, and Casil doubted that their destination would be any easier. She just prayed the Falmer continued to travel outside of their path. They’d only encountered one or two bands out of the many that seemed to be living down there, which had been a relief to all three of them.

The lift shuddered, suddenly slowing down. Jenassa reached out to hold Casil’s shoulder, tense as they waited to see if the slowing was from malfunction, or if they had survived to their destination.

The heavy doors in front of them slide open slowly, before the ornate metal gate of the inner lift slid open as well. Casil took a deep breath, stepping forward and out into the open.

Casil wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to find at the bottom of the lift, or in this  _ Blackreach,  _ but it certainly wasn’t  _ this.  _ She had called many caverns and caves massive in the past; caverns with trees, caverns with a small building, but this? 

Casil’s eyes slowly scanned the world around her.

This was an entire  _ city.  _

The ceiling extended up so far that Casil couldn’t even make out where it ended, only able to see small patches of some sort of glowing blue stone that sparkled like stars. The usual glowing mushrooms that propagated the walls in Dwemer ruins now sprouted like entire trees, towering above the group. Roots had spread out and were now covering walls and pathways like lattice, and smaller mushrooms clustered around edges of the beautifully intact buildings. While none of the lamps and other major light sources seemed to be on in the immediate area, the light from the mushrooms ensured that most of the area was lit up rather well. A giant orb of light hung in the center of a crowd of buildings on some far side of the subterranean city, casting a golden glow like a mechanical sun over that area, while other sections of the city were lit by gas lights or other strange methods if their piping or other mechanics had not broken. The distant sound of water crashing down told Casil that there was likely a whole waterfall and river down  there as well. The whole place was… much more than she’d expected.

Casil stepped out onto the beaten, half buried stone path that zig-zagged through the buildings, looking around Blackreach in awe. Jenassa and Sterlas followed her out, slack-jawed themselves at their surroundings.

“This… is incredible,” Jenassa managed, her eyes wide.

Sterlas nodded in agreement, hands on his hips as he craned his neck back to stare up at the distant cavern ceiling. He slowly turned his head to look down, and his gaze fell on something glistening in the faint light between a cluster of stones. He walked over, crouching down before shifting some of the rocks with a dagger. “Hey, Casil,” he called, picking one of the stones up. “Come look at this.”

Casil blinked and walked over, moving to crouch down next to him. Sterlas pulled back so he wouldn’t block the faint light of the mushrooms, holding up a little fragment of the rock. Casil squinted at it, before casting a mage light to illuminate their immediate surroundings. Between Sterlas’s fingers was a shiny black rock, and Casil’s eyes widened. She snatched it out of his fingers, turning it in her hand before knocking it against a stone to test it. Sure enough, it was ebony. And right next to where she’d checked it was more, in a vein that was thicker than she’d ever seen. Casil’s eyes sparkled, before she scrambled to get a pickaxe off of her backpack.

Jenassa walked over in confusion, eyebrow arched as Sterlas straightened himself out with a laugh. “What is it?” She questioned, squinting at the rocks.

“Ebony!” Sterlas howled, before giving Jenassa a rough and playful spin. “Can ya believe it? Right here! Can ya imagine what else must be down here if there’s ebony right here?” 

Jenassa staggered a bit as Sterlas spun her around and let go. She couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle as Sterlas scrambled up a ledge to the side of the lift, scanning their surroundings. “This place really is… something. More than what I was expecting to find,” she mused. She pulled out Casil’s spyglass, taking the chance to check the surrounding area. While this place was looking fairly abandoned, there were clear signs of where automatons might be running, and even clearer signs of falmer encampments. “We will have to watch for falmer,” Jenassa muttered, scanning the buildings she could see below the bright orb.

“‘Bout what I expected,” Sterlas said, looking around on the edge. “Anythin’ promisin’?”

Jenassa scanned a bit more, inspecting  the buildings. “The buildings under that orb seem to have a lot of activity around them. I’m unsure of if that’s were we should be looking, though.” She pulled the glass away.

Casil shoved as much of the ebony as she could into her bag before straightening herself out, trying not to get too excited about all the reasons they weren’t there for. Jenassa handed her the spyglass, though Casil couldn’t get much herself given their position.

‘There’s a few centurion racks by the paths. We’ll have to be extra careful,’ Casil signed after taking a look, closing the glass this time. ‘Maybe if we get somewhere higher we can get a better look. Anything from up there?’ She signed to Sterlas.

Sterlas crouched down on the ledge. “I mean, if ya ain’t countin’  _ all  _ of this as interestin’,” he admitted, his fingers scratching at the dirt below him. He picked up a glowing rock out of it, spitting on it to get the dirt off before wiping it on his shirt. He turned the stone in his hands. “I mean, look at that. Ain’t seen anythin’ like this before! And this shit looks like it’s all over the place.” He tossed it down to Casil, straightening himself out. She caught it and examined it, before sticking it in one of her pockets.

Sterlas sure was right. This whole place was… fascinating. If the  _ end of the world  _ wasn’t pressing on her shoulders, she imagined she could spend quite a bit of time down there exploring. The Falmer didn’t seem to have interacted much with many of the things Casil found interesting, so much of it remained as it probably had been the last time Dwemer had been there. Maybe she’d have to come back down another day,  _ if  _ there was another day. It  had taken the sphere that Septimus had given her to even get the lift to activate, so Casil doubted this place was even reachable by almost anyone else.

But for now, they needed to find the Elder Scroll. And fast. Casil turned and started to head for one of the taller buildings in the area, making her way up the staircase that spiraled around the outside. They needed a better vantage spot. 

It was then that Casil realized exactly how  _ gargantuan  _ Blackreach was. Her heart sank, unable to even see where the other side of the giant underground city ended. Casil wasn’t sure if she could compare any city she’d ever seen to the size of Blackreach. She pulled her spyglass back out, now scanning again now that she was at a better vantage point. She could see the faint shapes of a few other tubes like the lift they’d taken in, which at least gave her the relief that if something happened to the one they took in, there were other ways out. That said, she wasn’t sure if she trusted taking a lift up into the depths of another dwemer ruin she wasn’t familiar with.

Now was the matter of figuring out which building housed the damned Elder Scroll.

 

The group had settled down at the top of a ‘outdoor’ tower, lighting a small fire to cook dinner on once they were sure they were secure. The three had spent some time looking for any map or other useful information before picking out a basecamp, getting a bad feeling that looking for the Elder Scroll in this massive city was going to take some time.

The Tower of Mzark. Casil eyed her notes on what Septimus said, before looking on the multi-sheet rubbing of a map they’d found.

“Thank the Divines the damn dwemer made maps of metal,” Sterlas muttered, taking a bite out of a grilled leek as he leaned over to look at the map as well.

Casil nodded in agreement. Sadly, it didn’t help that none of them knew any of the dwemer ruins. 

Jenassa leaned back in a salvaged metal chair, scanning the buildings below. “Any ideas?” She questioned.

Casil picked up a leek of her own, munching on it as she examined the map. ‘The buildings near that sphere look important,’ Casil offered.

“The place swarmin’ with falmer?” Sterlas groaned.

Casil nodded, her face reflecting her disinterest in actually  _ going  _ there.

“Maybe that’s why they’re all over there,” Jenassa muttered, sighing herself. “But if that’s your best guess, then we should investigate there first. We don’t exactly have the supplies to spend forever down here.”

“What? Ya don’t wanna find out what those mushrooms taste like?” Sterlas chuckled. “I’m sure I could cook us a mean falmer ear n’ mushroom stew. Maybe get some chaurus eggs too.”

Casil made a face at Sterlas, before nodding to what Jenassa had said. ‘There are a few buildings on the edge of it we can check first, before we push closer to that light. I’m hoping it won’t be in any of those interior buildings.’ She shifted her map, trying to make out the edges of each structure. ‘There’s a lot of them in there.’

Strelas stretched out, lounging on his side next to the tiny fire. “Well, it’s a start. Better than lookin’ for a needle in a haystack.” 

“It still feels like we are,” Jenassa replied, shaking her head. “I hope that madman was right.”

Casil nodded in agreement, grimacing. If he wasn’t… Casil tried to shrug the thought off. There was no use in pondering over the  _ what if’s _ . Maybe a year ago she would have, but she didn’t have time for that anymore.

 

The first day pulled up no Scroll, but at least it had soothed the blow on Casil’s motivation by showering her with unusual findings and, to Casil’s amazement, soul gems mined from the earth. Casil hadn’t even  _ heard  _ of where they mysterious crystals had come from - despite how in-depth she was with necromancy, she’d only ever obtained them from other mages and other questionable sources. But never from  _ the  _ source. 

The second day, after hours of wandering and quite a bit of fighting with a band of falmer, Casil found herself at the top of a spiral staircase at the base of a very large and unusual room. It was perfectly circular, with a giant gold disk at the center. Stone chairs and tables lined the edges, back up by carved pillars, banners, and some unusual lights. The disk beveled upwards in a slope to a disk in the center that was inlaid with a blue-green glass. Above it was an array of curved arms that held various sized disks of a similar glass at the ends, and at the very middle of the device a ray of pale white light filtered down from the ceiling. A second set of stairs curved up and stopped at a slightly higher platform that overlooked the room. A series of metal tubes lead from the ground up to some sort of console fit with a mirriad of buttons.

Casil checked the room cautiously, making sure there was no trouble before she walked in. This place looked promising, for  _ something.  _ Casil skulked up to the control platform, scanning over the buttons laid out on the device.

Jenass and Sterlas walked into the room cautiously as well, scanning the strange machine.

“What…  _ is  _ this?” Jenassa asked, her voice a low hiss.

Casil scratched her chin. A series of glowing dots and lines connected to the center of the device, and either side of the main section were two buttons covered by a small metal cage. Casil arched her brow. A neighboring tube that wasn’t fully connected to the main console remained empty, a tiny metal claw reaching up to hold something. Casil pulled out her journal, eyeing her notes. As she did, her hand brushed the cube Septimus had given her, making her pause. Casil scrunched her brow, before removing that instead. It looked to be around the right size, and if the sphere had told her anything it was that the dwemer here liked shape keys. Casil curiously plopped the cube down into the claw to see if it would fit, and sure enough it did. The claw tightened its grip on the cube with a click, and the metal cage over the buttons slid open.

Jenassa glanced up at her. “What did you just do?” She asked wearily.

Casil slapped one of the buttons. The machined whirred to life, metal grinding loudly as what was apparently a whole  _ sphere  _  at the center of the room turned. Jenassa and Sterlas lurched back in alarm. The arms and a whole new set of glass circles shifted positions around the center.

“Casil!” Sterlas snapped, shooting the bosmer a glare. “What are you doing!?”

Casil continued to pay her poor companions no mind, wiggling her fingers as she eyed the buttons. She moved back and forth between the buttons, pressing them with a loud ‘click’. The machine hissed and shook, changing its position as Casil mindlessly hit the buttons. A few presses later and the cage over the remaining part of the machine slid down, and Casil wasted no hesitation in pressing that next.

The arms on the ceiling pulled away from the center light where they’d moved to, before one more arm descended from the ceiling. A blue-green oblong container was clutched horizontally in between the metal prongs, a pair of metal rings circling the center. Jenassa and Sterlas stayed back against the wall as the container opened up with a hiss, coming to a standstill with the last arm waiting at chest level above the ground level.

Slowly, Casil made her way back down the stairs, eyes wide. She held her breath, coming to stop right before the capsule. Inside of it, perchd delicately on a few prongs, was a long scroll case. It was gilded in gold, easily three feet long, with purple handles decorated in more gold filigree on either end. Purple gemstones had been set into either handle, and a beautifully carved metal bar indicated where it could be grabbed and pulled open. The rest of the case was a shining gold with a star embossed on its front.

Casil shakily reached out, picking up the Elder Scroll between her hands. It was  _ heavy _ , and touching it made her heart pound in her chest. Septimus had been right. There  _ was  _ an Elder Scroll down here. 

Jenassa slowly approached, her own eyes wide. “Is that…?” She began, her voice hushed.

Casil nodded. There was no mistaking it. She could feel the power running through her fingertips by just holding it. This was no expensive but mundane scroll. This was an  _ Elder Scroll.  _

Slowly, she shifted it so she could carry it easier against her chest, making sure every step was placed carefully as if the Scroll might crumble at one misstep. She started to make her way back down the staircase to the outside, trying to contain her excitement.

Sterlas was almost prancing behind her. “We got it!” he whispered excitedly. “That crazy old bastard was right! We found an Elder Scroll!”

Casil looked over her shoulder, giving him a nervous grin. She was trying her hardest to push aside their next step. The step where she might find the Shout, and still be unable to use it. Another step she’d complete before being walled once more by the same recurring problem: she was mute, and this whole gods forsaken prophecy required a voice. 

She tried to key into Sterlas’s excitement, fighting to keep her impending doom off of her mind for one moment longer.

“Let’s get back to one of those elevators and get out of here,” Jenassa muttered, looking back over her shoulder towards the room with the strange device. She was surprised Casil had managed to open it up, but perhaps there hadn’t been much of a lock on it to begin with besides the cube Septimus had given them. She paused. Casil hadn’t grabbed that, had she? “I’ll be right back,” Jenassa said suddenly, hurrying back upstairs to grab it.

Casil paused, looking over her shoulder as she waited for the dunmer to return. She turned her attention back to the Scroll for a moment, turning the heavy artifact in her hands.

Maybe it would give her some sort of answer beyond just the words. She prayed it would.

 

To their luck, the first elevator they picked lead them up directly to the surface, much to their surprise. A old, mostly-hidden ruin that had been kept firmly sealed by a handful of thick metal gates, which opened with the help of the attunement sphere they’d used earlier. 

Casil decided to return back to Septimus with the items first, wanting to give herself just a bit longer before they headed up to the Throat of the World with the Scroll. Really, she was just trying to put off facing the inevitable answer for just a bit longer. The whole trip to the iceberg had Casil struggling to maintain a calm face. She both simultaneously wanted to get things over with there as quickly as possible, while hoping it took as long as humanly possible. 

By the time they arrived, Casil just needed a moment to herself. She waited at the edge of the ice floes they’d wandered across to get there as Sterlas and Jenassa wandered into the larger floe.

What good was the Scroll going to be if she couldn’t  _ use  _ what was on it? What was she trying to do at this stage? Paarthurnax didn’t have an answer for her, the Greybeards didn’t have an answer, and the Blades didn’t have an answer. Nobody else knew how to use the shout, and nobody else knew who else could use the shout.

Casil leaned against the ice, watching a few stray flakes of snow drift down from the light grey overhead. She felt the scroll press into her back, reminding her that their next destination was the Throat of the World. Get the word to stop the World-Eater. Fail to use it. Fail to find someone who can. Die.

Joyous.

Casil sighed, sliding carefully into a sitting position as she wrapped her arms around her knees. They were all going to die because she couldn’t shout and it was, somehow, all going to be her fault. What a great fate. She rubbed her nose, making a face at how cold it was, before looking up. 

Casil scrambled back, almost hitting her head back against the ice. A giant mass of darkness and  _ eyes  _ floated before her, clouding almost all of her vision. A singular giant green-gold eye reminiscent of a octopus’s narrowed at her, making Casil freeze under its gaze. 

There was a low chuckle that echoed ominously around Casil, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “ _ Come closer… bask in my presence _ ,” the abyss spoke, voice echoing through her mind in a slow, leering drawl. Tendrils of darkness extended out from the void, caging Casil to where she was. She pressed further back into ice, fingers digging into it.

Oh no. No no. This was bad. She stared the eye down. She was not about to get any closer. She remained still, and the eye narrowed. Apparently, it wasn’t going to take  _ no  _ for an answer. The darkness encompassed her, dragging until she was uncomfortably close to the main eye. Casil stiffened, leaning as far back as the tentacles would allow.

“ _ I am Hermaeus Mora. I am the guardian of the unseen, the knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. And more and more do you seem to… cry for help _ .”

Nope. Casil’s jaw tensed firmly. Slowly, cautiously, she raised her arms from the darkness that was holding her in place. ‘I know who you are. What do you want from me?’

Hermaeus Mora chuckled again, the eye tilting slightly as if amused. “ _ If you know who I am, then should you not be asking me what you need?”  _ He taunted.

Casil felt color drain from her face. This… this couldn’t be genuine. ‘I need to figure out what to do so Alduin doesn’t eat the world.’

A tendril of darkness extended as the eye squinted, reaching into her satchel in a flash before dangling something in front of her face. Casil blinked as the shadows coiled around a scrap of paper. “ _ Oh, but I think you already know the first step to solving that problem _ ,” he rolled, allowing Casil to pluck the paper gingerly out of his grasp. The tentacle recoiled into the darkness as Casil unfolded the letter again.

It was the letter from the cultists that had jumped her in Whiterun. Her brow furrowed, scanning it.

_ False Dragonborn. _

_ Miraak. _

Casil’s grip on the letter tightened. No… that was right. There… there might be another dragonborn. She glanced up at the many eyes watching her, biting her lower lip.

The abyss slowly began to fade into itself, another eerie chuckle echoing through her head. “ _ I shall see you again. As Fate demands it _ ,” he said, before he was gone.

Casil stared out at the open sea behind where the Daedric Prince had once been. That… that was  _ Hermaeus Mora.  _ He had shown himself to her, on Nirn. This wasn’t good. But at the same time… Casil looked back down at the paper. She felt like a damn fool. The Daedric Prince of Knowledge and Fate had to come across from Oblivion to point out what she already knew and had apparently forgotten.

There  _ was  _ one more hope. Maybe, just… maybe… there  _ was  _ another dragonborn. In  _ Solstheim  _ of all places. Why they hadn’t shown up, and why nobody else knew of them, was a mystery to Casil. But right now, it was all she had.

She folded the paper, tucking it quickly into her bag again as Jenassa and Sterlas finally returned.

Jenassa arched a brow as Casil quickly turned to her, a determined expression on her face. “Did… something happen, sera?” Jenassa asked slowly, furrowing her brow in confusion.

‘We need to get to the Throat of the World. I think I might have a plan,’ Casil said, turning swiftly towards the direction of land without asking what had become of Septimus or anything related to him.

Sterlas glanced at her in confusion, giving Jenassa his own look of surprise before shrugging to follow her.

 

The weather at the Throat of the World was not any different than it had been around two weeks prior. Casil at least anticipated it this time, and bundled herself up a bit tighter for the walk. Arngeir was willing to help guide her and her companions back up to the peak of the mountain, though it came with deep reluctance. Casil could tell he distrusted Sterlas and Jenassa, and the sight of the Elder Scroll strapped to his back made him give Casil a wear eye as well.

But at last, at the very top, Paarthurnax was already perched on top of the word wall. Jenassa and Sterlas lingered back at the pass with Arngeir, giving the old dragon a look of unease.

His massive head turned to watch Casil as she waded in the snow towards him. “You have it! The Kel - the Elder Scroll.  _ Tiid kreh… qalos.  _ Time shudders at its touch. There is no question,” the dragon rumbled as she came to stand before him, both craning their necks in different directions to look at each other. “You are doom-driven.  _ Kogaan Akatosh.  _ The very bones of the earth are at your disposal.” He shifted, claws scraping ice from the wall. “Go. Fulfill your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound,” he spoke, lowering his head to usher Casil in the direction of the breach.

Casil clung to the cold metal, nodding her head firmly. She hesitated, wanting to ask him about this Miraak, but the old dragon used his head to physically push her forward.

“Do not delay. Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs,” Paarthurnax said urgently, not giving her a chance to speak.

Shit. Casil tried to turn to talk to him, but the dragon was looking up to the sky. 

“You do not have much time. You may not have another chance to read it.  _ Krosis… _ ” he rumbled, scanning for any sign of the World-Eater.

He was right, if Alduin was coming. Casil closed her eyes tightly for a moment, taking a deep breath before turning to face the Time-Wound itself. She stepped forward into the wavering patch, feeling the subtle distortion of time and space itself as she did so. The sound of the wind sounded muffled, and the snowflakes slowed before her. Biting her lower lip, Casil held the heavy scroll out in front of her. She gave Jenassa and Sterlas a look of worry. The two nodded, clearly tense even through the distortion of the time wound. Casil looked ahead once more, before taking one more breath as she unfurled the scroll. 

The scroll unrolled between her hands, glowing symbols made of searing bright light staining the page. The instant Casil’s eyes fell on the runes, the world around her wavered and warped. Casil tried not to flinch, forcing herself to keep staring even as the symbols felt like they were being burned into her very eyes. The world went white for a moment around her, before everything seemed to implode inward on itself as the symbols lingered in front of her.

 

The Throat of the World. Dragons. A red sun. Two warriors. Their muffled voices through the other side of the Wound. Casil watched as a battle unfolded, the two warriors slaying dragon after dragon. Waiting for Alduin. A old mage joined the. Her eyes fell on the Elder Scroll strapped to his back. They were uncertain. They didn’t want to resort to the scroll, but did they have another choice?

Someone was supposed to be there but was’t. They had to do it without him, whoever he was.

A dark shadow. Alduin landed on the word wall Paarthurnax had been perched on in the current time. Words exchanged. He took to the sky again, both parties prepared for combat once more.

And a shout.  _ The  _ shout.

_ Joor Zah Frul. _

Casil could feel the shout ripple through her body even across time as Alduin was sundered by a blue aura. It felt like death. A limit. It made Casil fear for herself, feel like her death was upon her. The understanding of an  _ end.  _ That was the shout. The shout of  _ mortality _ given form.

But it was not enough. The three were not nearly enough to slay Alduin. One of them, the woman, fell, and the other warrior called for the Scroll. Alduin was startled, and as the scroll was unrolled, the great dragon had simply vanished.

The world came rushing back to Casil, making her inhale sharply before staggering backwards. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the bright runes finally fade out of her vision. She lowered the Scroll, slowly cracking an eye open her eye.

To the terrifying visage of Alduin himself. Not Alduin in the past. Alduin in the present. Only a few meters in front of her.

The dragon’s mighty wings beat down, each flap sending a gale of biting ice and wind towards the others on the mountain top. “ _ Bhaloki nahkip sillesejoor.  _ My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, dovahkiin,” Alduin snarled, sulfuric breath overpowering. “Die!” He tucked his wings in, moving to dive down at Casil, but Paathurnax intercepted him.

The slightly smaller dragon slammed into Alduin’s side, sending both of them crashing into the peak of the mountain. Rocks shattered and started to rumble down the mountain. “ _ Lost funt.  _ You are too late, Alduin!” Paarthurnax roared, digging his talons into Alduin as he tried to keep the other dragon pinned. “Dovahkiin! Run!”

Casil turned and booked it as fast as she could towards the pass where Arngeir, Jenassa and Sterlas were huddled. Alduin managed to worm his head away from Paarthurnax for just long enough to exhale a breath of ice at her, knocking her to the ground. Casil winced in pain, feeling the scroll fall out of her grip as she bit the ground. Casil moved to push herself up, looking back at the two dragons just in time to see them rolling towards her. Casil let out a strangled scream as she rolled out of the way, just narrowly missing being crushed under a stray limb from one of the two beasts. 

Shit. The Scroll. Casil dropped back to her knees, trying to find where it’d been dropped and covered, but each movement from the warring dragons kicked up more snow over where she’d fallen.

“ _ Bo,  _ dovahkiin! You know the shout! Flee while you can!” Paarthurnax howled, neck coiling back as Alduin sank his fangs into it.

Alduin… Casil’s eyes widened. He must not have known that she couldn’t use it. She had to get out of there, and get to Solstheim. That was the only chance she had, that  _ anyone  _ had. Casil pushed herself to her feet again, narrowly avoiding the whip-like lash of Alduin’s tail. Sterlas ran out to meet her, wasting no time in scooping her up before heading back to the path. Arngeir hurried down the path ahead of them, clearing it so they could get down as soon as possible.

Even when they’d reached High Hrothgar, the battle still raged on overhead at the top of the mountain. Arngeir slammed the doors to the courtyard behind them once everyone was inside, whirling to face Casil as Sterlas finally set her down.

“Did you find the words you needed?” He asked quickly, trying to catch his own breath.

Casil nodded, looking to her two companions. ‘I need to go to Solstheim. There might be someone there who can use the shout.’

Sterlas took a second to repeat what she said, a bit confused.

Arngeir furrowed his brow as the other Greybeards nervously gathered around. “Someone on Solstheim…?” He questioned carefully. “Who might be able to learn the shout in time…?” He glanced to his fellow monks, before giving Casil a careful look. “I do not believe that I have heard of such a person, nor do I know where you got such information.” He trailed off for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “But if you believe that there is someone, then go. Quickly, before Alduin is no longer distracted.”

Casil pursed her lips, nodding her head quickly. She turned to head to the other side of the building as quickly as she could, heart pounding in her chest.

“Be careful of who you might be seeking, dovahkiin,” Arngeir warned before she made it out the door.

Casil looked over her shoulder. She didn’t have another choice. She gave a nervous nod, before rushing back outside.


	16. XVI - Wundun [Travel]

They had taken a rickety ship out of Windhelm, where the letter had told the receiver to start. In fact, it was the  _ only  _ ship in all of  _ Skyrim  _ that would make the passage between Skyrim and Solstheim, and it had taken quite a bit of extra convincing and some extra gold to get him to go back. 

Whatever had happened on the last trip had spooked the captain and his crew pretty badly, and Casil could only assume it had to do with whoever had jumped her in Whiterun. The ship’s captain, Gjalund Salt-Sage, had explained early on that the whole crew had no recollection of their last trip from Solstheim to Skyrim beyond the two masked individuals Casil had run into. Gjalund had been fervent that something odd was going on at the island. Few ships traveled the day and a half sail between Skyrim and the now Morrowind-controlled island, but with how things had been going, he had been the only one. He had no intention of going back again either, but there was no way Casil was going to take  _ no  _ for an answer. No just wasn’t an option. If there had been any other method of getting there, Casil would have taken it in a heartbeat.

The Northern Maiden wasn’t a terrible ship - small, and a bit rugged, but certainly not in the worst shape and stable enough to brave the stormy northern seas. That said, it did  nothing to comfort Casil and Sterlas. Neither of them were boat people and the two of them had spent the entire trip vomiting over the edge of the boat, praying to the Divines that they would reach land  _ soon.  _ Casil was thankful the seas weren’t terribly rough, but even the relatively calm waters were enough to unsettle her stomach and make the trip miserable. If it hadn’t been the end of summer and was a season like winter, Casil doubted she’d had survived the trip. Her seasickness made planning ahead of time almost impossible, though she quickly realized that there wasn’t much planning that she could  _ do.  _

Nobody on the ship knew who Miraak was. Casil didn’t have time to go digging in any library for information, but everywhere she’d been able to turn and look had given her absolutely no details or direction. All she had was the single slip of paper the strangers had brought. The name  _ Miraak  _ sounded draconic, but Casil had no idea for  _ what.  _ And that left the three with no direction and no plan to act on when they reached the island.

Casil felt like a idiot for having to have the Daedric Prince of Knowledge  _ remind  _ her of information she already knew. That being said, if Hermaeus Mora himself had come to point out that she knew a potential solution to her predicament, then her hunch about this Miraak really being another dragonborn must have been true - or at least, he had to have been  _ someone  _ powerful. A Daedric Prince wouldn’t go out of his way to point out something like that for  _ nothing,  _ or at least not Hermaeus Mora. If it had been Sheogorath, maybe, but Hermaeus Mora did not strike Casil as a  _ trickster  _ from her understanding of the odd being. But if this Miraak really was a dragonborn… then why hadn’t he come to assist? Why hadn’t anyone else mentioned him, or why didn’t they  _ know  _ about him? Surely the Blades or maybe even Paarthurnax might have known, but neither of them did. Nobody did. And why did the note call her the  _ false  _ dragonborn? Was she the false dragonborn because she was mute? Was this Miraak the true dragonborn because he could shout?

It made Casil feel uneasy.

 

Raven Rock was not a huge city. The group was immediately greeted by one of the city’s councilors, and their outsider status was… readily apparent. Most of the people in town were dunmer, and they were quickly reminded that Solstheim was a sovereign territory of Morrowind under House Redoran, and not part of Skyrim. They were to play by Morrowind’s rules here, which was something Casil hoped wouldn’t be relevant. Jenassa seemed quietly excited to be around her kinsmen, and Casil prayed Jenassa would help them get around - or at least stop them from making a fool of themselves. 

Solstheim itself was not what Casil had been expecting. The Red Mountain fumed in the distance, pale plumes of ash constantly drifting out of its top. The whole south-eastern face of Solstheim was a wasteland of ash and burned trees, constantly bombarded by debris from the volcano on the horizon. Jenassa was quick to point out many of the plants that had been brought up from Morrowind - hardy, ash-tolerant species like ash yams and scathecraw sprouted up along the edges of buildings as the group made their way from the docks into town. Raven Rock wasn’t huge - it was a small port and mining town clustered at the base of columnar basalt cliffs. Most of the buildings were either sad, ash-coated shacks or traditional dunmer architecture. A large wall fronted the eastern side of the town, staffed by guards in bonemold and chitin armor. 

It was all very foreign to Sterlas and Casil. Neither of them had been so far east before, and everything about the small town felt very alien. Locals eyed the three suspiciously as they passed by. Even Jenassa stood out in her nordic-made armor, though she seemed less worried  than Casil and Sterlas.

“So, what should we do now?” Sterlas asked, folding his arms as he eyed the town. “The counselor mentioned some rock or somethin’ at the edge of town, but ya think we should get some place to stay first?”

Casil glanced up at the sky. The sun was starting to decline on the horizon, but there was still time in the day. The councilor hadn’t known anything about Miraak, but he had at least mentioned that some strange things had been going on at a old stone on the outskirts of town. ‘I think we should go to the stone first. It’s our only lead.’

Jenassa nodded in agreement. “Maybe we’ll get something else out of it. We can ask around the inn tonight if not. It’d be better to use the last of the daylight out there.”

Casil turned and started to head towards the western path out of the city, following the directions the counselor had given them. On an outcrop of rock that jutted into the sea was a single giant pillar of rock, that Casil frankly wouldn’t have thought much of given how many littered the Skyrim countryside. The beginnings of a series of strange archways was being built around it by a rather… lethargic crowd of townspeople. Casil furrowed her brow slightly as they go closer.

They were in some sort of trance. Tools were strewn across the ground, including hammers, chisels and pickaxes. Nobody looked up at them as they approached, zoned out in their work. A guard pushed a cart of stone over before picking some out, walking across the stone circle that surrounded the pillar and through the shallow pool of water that lay in the center.

Sterlas paused at the edge of the circle, hands on his hips as he looked the original structure and the ones being built over. “This ain’t lookin’ good,” he mused.

Casil nodded in agreement, eyes straying over as a very well-dressed dunmer made his way over towards them from across the circle. She raised her brow, surprised that someone had taken notice of them, given how everyone else was behaving.

“You there!” he called, weaving around a sailor who didn’t even acknowledge that the dunmer had walked by him. “You don’t seem to be quite in the same state as the others here. May I ask what you’re doing here?” 

Sterlas and Jenassa both looked to Casil, unsure of what information she wanted to give away. Sterlas waited for Casil to sign before translating for her.

‘I’m looking for someone by the name of Miraak,’ Casil signed, looking the man over. His outfit told her that he was likely another wizard, and a very powerful one at that - or, at least, one who  _ thought  _ himself as a powerful wizard. But judging by the prickle of magicka on Casil’s skin once the man had stopped only a few feet away, she was guessing he was as powerful as he looked. She could tell he was certainly older.

The dunmer hummed, scratching his black beard. “Miraak… Miraak… it sounds familiar, and yet I can’t quite place…” He trailed off in thought, before snapping his fingers together. “Oh. Wait, I recall. Miraak’s been dead for thousands of years. I must question why you’re looking for a dead man,” he mused idly, running his thumb under his chin as he looked Casil over in curiosity.

Casil turned her head slightly, giving him a confused look. She glanced to Sterlas and Jenassa, lips pursed tightly. They seemed as confused as she was. ‘He’s… dead?’ Casil signed, hesitating. She shook her head. ‘People had been sent after me to  _ kill  _ me that apparently he’d sent. How can a dead man send a hit on me?’ 

He shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s fascinating, isn’t it? Perhaps it has something to do with what’s going on here,” he said, waving a hand towards the structure as he turned to face it. “Quite unexpected. I’m afraid I can’t give you any answers, but there are ruins of a ancient temple of Miraak’s towards the center of the islands. If I were you, I’d look there,” he suggested.

There was a lot to process. Casil took a deep breath, trying not to show her stress. But at least this man had given her… some sort of a direction. ‘I didn’t catch your name,’ Casil signed.

He was about to pace back to his original spot, but Sterlas’s voice made him pause and look back with a arched brow. “Ah, how rude of my. My name is Neloth, Master Wizard of House Telvanni,” he said simply, straightening his back. “And you?”

Casil didn’t even raise her hands, letting Sterlas introduce the three of them.

Neloth replied with a simple grunt, nodding his head sharply in acknowledgement before turning back towards the pillar.

Casil watched with him for a moment as Jenassa paced around the edge of the circle, getting a good look around the whole structure while Casil seemed to be thinking about what to do. ‘What are they doing? You said that Miraak might have something to do with this?’

Neloth didn’t look back. “Building something, clearly,” he grunted in response. “And yet, they don’t seem to have much to say about it. I’ve heard that name muttered a few times, but i’m afraid that’s the best I have. I’m very interested to find out what happens when they finish it.”

Casil grimaced. ‘Everyone else i’ve talked to doesn’t know who he is. But you seem to have some idea. How?’

The dunmer shifted, glancing back at Casil again in mild vexation. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” he scoffed. “Research, of course. Very thorough research, mind you, but research all the same. Though clearly, something more is going on here with people’s minds, and i’m finding their memory of that name is poor at best, even if i’ve explained it to them before,” he hummed.

Not a good sign. She watched another almost zombified merchant move over to work on another segment of the archways. Casil folded her arms, tense. This Miraak was… not sounding like the kind of person she was hoping for - if it was him at all. If he was dead, then how could he be sending things? Unless, of course, he was  _ un _ dead. Was he a lich? It was possible, but it was another possibilities Casil wasn’t too fond of. She’d had her brush in with liches before, and she’d prefer to keep her encounters with such creatures in the past.

Casil nodded her head in thanks to Neloth before turning back towards Raven Rock.

“So, now what?” Sterlas asked, motioning to Jenassa that they were leaving.

Casil waited until the dunmer had rejoined them. ‘I’m going to see if I can get a map of the island from somewhere in town, and see what other people know. I think we should head to the temple tomorrow. That seems like our best bet,’ Casil signed. ‘It’s too late to set out today anyways.’

Jenassa nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we may assist you with?” she asked.

‘Regular supplies. Take what you can get,’ Casil signed, digging into her coin purse. She pulled out a thick handful of coins, handing it over to Jenassa. ‘This place looks like it doesn’t get a lot of visitors or trade, so if the prices are too high accept it anyways. Sterlas, get us a room at whatever inn is available. We can meet up back there or in the middle of town tonight if we don’t run into each other again,’ she signed, before eyeing the town. ‘Which I doubt, since this place is too small for two mammoths to stand without touching.’

“That’s for sure,” Sterlas grumbled, but he nodded. “Keep ya eyes sharp incase any more of those masked freaks are around. If they came from here and nobody is sailin’ here from Skyrim to this shithole, they’re bound to have noticed the Northern Maiden comin’ in,” Sterlas commented, dropping his voice. 

Casil nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll try to stay low then, if they’re looking for me,’ she signed. 

Jenassa looked to Casil in worry. “Good. I’ll be with you as soon as I get supplies,” she said, before splitting her own way. 

“Don’t go gettin’ into trouble, ya here?” Sterlas said, and though he tried to smile Casil knew he was worried. Casil smiled back as reassuringly as she could with nod, and Sterlas split his own direction as well.

Casil watched as her two companions weaved off into the small city, sighing heavily once they had left earshot. Things kept taking a turn for the worse, and Casil was afraid of what ways they could continue to go wrong.

 

Casil shifted through a stack of books in one of the few open shops in town. Nothing. No books related to this man at all. Most of the books on Solstheim’s history said nothing either. The temple up at the top of the mountain wasn’t even  _ attributed  _ to this Miraak like Neloth said, and Casil was starting to wonder if the old wizard was just pulling her leg. She sighed in frustration, thumbing through another dusty book that probably hadn’t been touched in years. She knew so little information that she couldn’t even start making guesses. The only actual information she’d been given was from Neloth, and despite claiming to be a House Wizard Casil had no clue if he actually was or if anything he said was valid. But if he was right, then Miraak was dead. Which left one of two plausible answers as far as Casil was concerned: Miraak was a lich or some other form of undead, or someone was using his name. 

Being a undead would not be that surprising. A lich hiding in a old temple, riling people up into doing things at his bidding and controlling the minds of the townspeople didn’t seem like it’d be that far of a stretch. And hell, maybe they were just using this Miraak’s name too. Or maybe it was just someone else using some old name to get people to do their dirty work. Casil didn’t even have the vaguest idea.

The only thing she’d really found out was what the stone was. The Earth Stone, one of five so-called All-Maker stones revered by the Skaal people who lived on the northeastern portion of the island. Lots of legends and myths were tied to them about their power in keeping the balance of the land or something similar, stretching back through the Skaal’s oral storytelling to the people’s early time on the island sometime in the Merethic Era. People had been on Solstheim for a long, long time, which made things… difficult to find. And if Miraak died thousands of years ago, that would still line up. Just… with a  _ lot  _ of different places in time. Solstheim had changed hands and gone through several groups of people, and Casil still had nothing else to go off of.

Casil sighed, sitting down on the ground as she thumbed through more of the book on the Skaal’s history and tales. If she didn’t figure this out, they were all fucked. She didn’t have time for this vague puzzle. For alls he knew, Alduin would eat the world tomorrow. Or eat her. How long was it until Alduin found her or decided to make his move now that he knew she had Dragonrend? Casil shivered. 

Time was running out, and fast. And here she was, reading kid’s bedtime stories in a sad little corner shop on some backwater island looking for a dead man who might be able to talk better then she did.

Casil paused, her eyes catching on the word  _ Traitor  _ on one of the pages. Her hand stilled, before flipping back to the start of the chapter.

_ ‘The Guardian and the Traitor - A Essay on a Skaal Tale by Lucius Gallus _ ’

Casil pursed her lips, quickly scanning through the worn text on the page. The essay was… old, from the 3rd century of the 3rd era of all times, but the information on the tale itself was probably more accurate here than anyone she asked now. 

Dragons. Dragons, dragon priests, the cult.

Users of the Voice.

_ Hermaeus Mora. _

Casil felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, reading faster through the chapter. Suddenly, she jumped up, shoving a scrap of paper to where she was before moving to purchase the book. This… this had  _ something.  _ It was a Skaal folktale, but if Casil knew anything, it was that folktales sometimes came from some place of truth.

Paper scattered around Casil as she sat on the dusty floor of their inn room, scribbling notes as she went through the chapter.

There might have been dragon priests on the island. If nothing else, people  _ knew  _ there were dragons there at one point. Bones had been found at the summit - so the possibility of the Dragon Cult having resided there as well at some point didn’t seem… impossible. 

And there had been someone who had turned on them, according to legend. Someone who’s thu’um could split the land in half. And they were taken by Hermaeus Mora before their defeat.

The Traitor.

Casil’s jaw tensed, grinding it as she listened to the sound of people outside her room. It was just… a coincidence. That part was a coincidence. She assured herself of that, sorting some of her papers.

But Hermaeus Mora? He was  _ not.  _ Mora had shown up to her and sent her here for a reason. If any of this folklore was stepped in truth, then the Daedric Prince had his disgusting tentacles deep into whatever was going on here. Now, if Miraak himself had anything to do with this, she couldn’t be  _ certain.  _ It certainly… would make sense and  _ imply  _ it, no matter how many questions it brought up. But if the dragon cult had been here, and someone here who could use the thu’um, then there was a chance she could at least find someone useful. Were they dragonborn? Casil doubted it, but maybe at least they’d be able to use Dragonrend.

Casil’s eyes scanned over the faded text. But if Hermaeus Mora had taken this  _ Traitor _ … was it possible they were still alive…?

There were so many more unanswered questions, but at least now Casil hoped they had some sort of direction to head, and some idea of what they might be interacting with. And importantly, it confirmed her sinking suspicion that the Daedric Prince was up to something.

 

_ Here in my temple, here in my shrine, that you have forgotten. _

 

Her head felt like it was filled with cotton. She felt numb. 

 

_ Here do you toil, so that you might remember. Here you reclaim, what faithless minds have stolen. _

 

“Casil! Casil? Casil, wake up!”

 

_ Far from yourself, I grow ever nearer to you. _

 

Familiar.

 

_ Your eyes once were blinded, now through me do you see. Your hands once were idle, now through them do I speak. _

 

“C’mon kiddo, don’t walk out on us now-”

 

_ And when the world shall listen - _

 

The Traitor. The aviary. 

 

_ And when that world shall see -  _

 

“Divines, help us. Casil!”

 

_ And when the world remembers -  _

 

The black, oily eyes stared at them. 

 

_ That world will cease to be. _

 

The chisel fell to the ground, clattering loudly against the stone ring. Casil’s body twitched violently, her back going rigid as the world rushed back to her. She blinked, squinting for a moment at the sudden brightness of the morning sun. Sterlas gripped her shoulders tightly, and it took Casil a moment to turn and look at terrified faces of her companions. Casil furrowed her brow. Where…. Was… she…? There was a twisting feeling in her gut, and her head pounded like a anvil in her skull. Slowly, Casil closed her eyes again, feeling the heavy hammer in her other hand slip from her grip and join the chisel on the ground before she reached up and pressed her hands over her face in pain.

Sterlas let out a sigh of relief, pulling Casil into a tight hug. “Don’t fuckin’ scare us like that,” Sterlas exhaled.

“Thank the Divines,” Jenassa said, sighing as well as she tried to get Sterlas to loosen his grip on the disoriented bosmer.

Casil winced at the motion, the world spinning with the sudden movement. She felt someone help her sit down, making sure she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself as she swayed. When she opened her eyes again, she finally got a look at where she  _ was _ . The Earth Stone. It was morning.

Sterlas crouched down in front of her, blocking the sun as he put his hands on her shoulders again. He looked her over, gaze firm. “You with us, kid?” he asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

Casil winced, slowly nodding. Why was she at the Earth Stone… When and how did she  _ get  _ there…?

“What was the last thing you remember?” Jenassa asked, crouching next to her as well.

Casil looked down at her lap, biting her lower lip in thought as she tried to pull forth her memories of the night before. She’d been doing research, right? Yes. And she’d gotten tired after mapping out a route up to the temple sometime late in the night. ‘I just… I went to bed after finishing the map,’ she signed, frowning. Nothing interesting, nothing unusual.

Sterlas sighed, reaching over to scoop Casil up. She quickly clung to the palette of fur over the redguard’s shoulder, closing her eyes again to try to get her head to stop hurting. ‘What happened?’ Casil managed to ask, leaning against Sterlas’s chest as he carried her back into town.

“I woke up early this morning and saw you weren’t in your bed,” Jenassa said, her voice heavy with concern. “We searched all over town for you, and found you out at the Earth Stone. We’ve been trying to wake you up since before even the sun had risen.”

So she had fallen victim to whatever had a hold on most of the town. 

“Do you remember anything?” Sterlas asked.

Casil did not reply right away. Slowly, she shook her head.

That was a lie. She remembered. She remembered a deep, metallic, velvet voice. A voice like the trembling of the ground during an earthquake, or the low roll of the tides. Familiar, and yet unfamiliar. A mantra, the same mantra the others around the stone had been muttering. Had she chanted it too?

Casil leaned harder against Sterlas’s chest.

She remembered the Traitor too, but she blamed it on her readings. It could not have been related.

But the voice…

“You should- “ Sterlas began.

Casil suddenly opened her eyes, pulling from Sterlas’s chest a bit. ‘We need to get to the temple,’ she signed suddenly, a look of determination crossing her face.

“Casil, you were-” Jenassa tried to interject, but Casil shook her head.

‘Whatever is causing this is coming from there. I know it. We have to get to the bottom of this. Fast.’

Sterlas and Jenassa exchanged glances. Casil was right. They didn’t have time to waste. 

 

The winds had shifted again, and this time it was for the worse. Ash drifted down from the sky in heavy sheets like snow, and every gust of wind kicked up billows of ash off of the ground. Luckily, Jenassa had purchased goggles and scarves when she had been out the day before, but it didn’t make Casil any happier. The three had been trudging through the endless stretches of ash since mid morning, blindly trying to navigate to somewhere on the center of the island where Miraak’s temple supposedly lay. From Casil’s understanding, it was somewhere up the mountain that made up the heart of the island, so she at least figured that navigating to it would be easier as long as they continued up hill.

Which sounded  _ easier  _ in theory, because the ash made traveling sluggish and frustrating. Casil was used to the difficulties of snow, but ash was different. Better? Worse? She wasn’t sure, but she hated it either way. The southern side of Solstheim was a wreck, and the ash was knee-deep in some places. Most of the trees were dead and provided little to no shelter from the ash storms, and craters of smoldering rocks spit out by the Red Mountain checkered the landscape. Ash hoppers and other horrifying insects hid in waiting in piles of ash, and while they weren’t incredibly  _ threatening  _ they were a nuisance Casil was growing tired of.

The three of them trudged up the side of the mountain, trying to follow something that  _ might  _ have been a path some hundred years ago. Casil gripped her scarf tightly, trying to prevent it from blowing away as another gust of wind kicked up a curtain of ash that almost made it impossible to see Jenassa walking a whole of six feet in front of her. 

She couldn’t imagine things getting much worse. The only redeeming part of the island that she’d seen so far were a handful of netches that were floating down the coast when they’d left the gates of Raven Rock. She wanted to see one up close, but now was not the time for that. If this went well, and maybe if she saved the world, she’d have a chance to investigate the weird beasts later.

She let out a sharp whistle, signalling that she was pausing. She moved to the vague shelter of a pair of scrawny pine trees, crouching down out of the worst of the wind before she pulled the map out of her robe. She tried to open it as little as possible, hoping the wind wouldn't catch it and tear it. Jenassa walked back towards her, waiting until Casil said something. After a few minutes of angrily trying to determine where the hell they’d ended up, Casil angrily folded the map back up and shoved it back into her robes. ‘I can’t tell where in Oblivion we even are,’ Casil signed, straightening herself back out.

Jenassa adjusted her scarf, scanning their very limited field of vision. “Should we keep  going? Or do we wait for this to pass?” She asked, shouting for her voice to carry over the wind and the muffling of the scarf.

Casil threw her arms up in defeat. She didn’t know. She was tired from apparently getting no sleep the night before, and all her anxiety and stress was starting to get to her. The ash storm was just the topping on the cake. She turned to look towards Sterlas, who was further ahead. She could barely see him through the ash, only able to make out the dim silhouette of a man a little ways up the hill. Casil swayed in irritation, before trying to whistle at him again. Sterlas made not reaction, and Casil had to guess he couldn’t hear her over the wind.

Folding her arms tightly in irritation, Casil started to make her way towards him, clapping them loudly once she got closer to try to get his attention without having to walk all the way up after him.

Sterlas finally shifted, crouching down in front of something. Casil could just make out his face as he turned to look back down the hill. “I don’t think we need the map,” he shouted.

Casil paused, before looking back at  Jenassa. Jenassa waded through the ash after Casil, squinting in confusion herself. It wasn’t until they were almost right behind Sterlas that they could see what he was talking about.

A dragon skeleton lay buried in the ash. It was difficult to see, but there was no mistaking what it was. Sharp horns curled up, weathered by the ash but still distinct. Its black eye socket leered at them, a pile of ash forming in the hole before being disturbed by another gust.

Casil motioned to say something, but Sterlas straightened himself out and turned Casil’s head to further up the hill.

Casil felt a pit form in her stomach. Another dragon skeleton started not far from the end of the first, and then another, and another…

The three slowly made their way up the hill, silence falling on them. The skeletons tangled together, making it almost impossible to tell where one started and another ended under the heaps of ash and debris. They were ancient and worn, and probably had been buried at one point, but now the sun-bleached white bone lay at the surface for all to see. As they got further up, the wind died down, and the ash followed with it. The ruined facade of a temple at the top of the hill slowly began to show itself, as did even more skeletons. 

Casil had seen a lot of bones before. She was a necromancer - dealing in death and the remains of the dead was what she did. But this…? Dragon skeletons, devoid of souls… this struck a chord of fear in Casil’s heart. A ancient stone path was finally uncovered for them to walk on, leading them around the mountain under massive archways of stone that looked to have been reconstructed from where they’d fallen. And up at the top, as Neloth had said, were more people working on something similar to what was being built down at the Earth Stone.

The temple itself was rather large, and what had been uncovered - or at least, what remained of it - was a giant almost stadium-like area. It was a giant circle made of descending stairs that lead down into a lattice-covered inner circle, at the center of which was another one of the stones.

To Casil’s surprise, the people up there working weren’t dunmer. A bunch of people that Casil assumed must have been Skaal, or at least of some other nordic ethnicity, mindlessly slaved over the archeways again, the same as they had down at the Earth Stone.

The three of them paused at the entry to the temple grounds, looking down at the mess below. A single, frantic woman was running around down below, trying to shake her companions out of their trances.

“You must leave this place! It is not safe here! We must go to the village!” The woman cried, shaking the shoulder of one of the men chipping away at the stone. 

The man made no response, his body only moving in response to the momentum of her shaking.

Casil frowned, slowly descending down the stairs.

The woman turned her head and noticed them, before hurrying over. “You! You... are not under something’s control? Why are you here?” She asked, looking Casil over in worry.

Casil raised her hands and stepped back, a bit startled by the strange woman’s frantic movements. ‘Who are  _ you _ ?’ Casil signed first, giving her a look of suspicion and unease.

The woman bowed her head in apology, a few loose strands of blond hair falling in front of her face as she did so. “I am Frea of the Skaal. I am here to either save my people...” She turned her head, heavy brow knitting, “...or avenge them.” She looked back to Casil, a hard look in her eyes. “Why have you come to this place? It is not safe.”

Casil let Sterlas introduce them before she continued. ‘I’m here looking for someone as well. Who… are you saving them from?’ She signed, wondering if Frea knew anything.

Frea frowned. “I am afraid that all the people here that I have seen are from my village, unless it is one of my kinsmen that you seek. As to who is doing this… I am unsure.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Something has taken control of most of the people in Solstheim. It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the Stones, the very  _ land  _ itself. My father Storn, our shaman, says that Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible,” she said, pulling her arms tighter to herself in discomfort. 

Casil’s eyes lit up a little. ‘Miraak? That’s who i’m looking for. He sent people after me to try to kill me,’ she signed. And if what Frea said was true… then that would line up at least a little with what she’d read the night before.

Sterlas hesitated to relay the information, but did so anyways.

Frea seemed surprised. “Then you and I have both have reasons to investigate this. Perhaps together we can get to the bottom of this,” she said hopefully, before looking forlornly to her fellow villagers. “There is nothing more I can do here. The Tree Stone and my friends are beyond my help now.”

Oh. Well, that was not what she wanted. Casil stiffened, trying her best not to show her discomfort at the idea. Sterlas stiffened a snort, shifting his weight away from Casil so she wouldn’t hit him. Maybe this is what she got for bringing up that name. That said… Casil looked Frea over. She seemed to know more than anyone else they’d met so far, and she looked like she could handle herself. So if something happened, Casil wouldn’t feel like she had to defend her. Not that she would anyways. Casil simply gave Frea a nod, moving to look around the temple entry before the sound of shifting stone caught everyone’s attention.

A pair of masked individuals in the same garb of those who had attacked Casil before came up a ramp that lead down into the temple, which Casil hadn’t even noticed before. Casil backed up towards the other three, fire igniting in one hand defensively.

One of the strangers pulled out a knife, pointing it towards the four. “You do not belong here. If you do not leave, you will become an offering to the Master!” they hissed, grip tight around the old blade.

Casil grimaced. Good. They were… cultists, it seemed. She shifted, hoping maybe to get a word in with them, but Frea wasn’t having that. The Skaal woman drew her sword, letting out a battle scream before charging towards the cultists. Casil glared, but followed behind with a fireball. If Frea wanted to fight, then fine. She could lead the way and get hurt, but for once Casil had been hoping to get through everything without fighting. If these people knew things about Miraak, they were important - even if Frea obviously was not going to like that Casil was looking for him for a purpose other than, presumably, slaying him. 

Seeing Casil move to join Frea, Jenassa and Sterlas drew their weapons and followed, making quick word of the two cultists that had emerged from below before the group collectively headed down the ramp to pass inside of the temple.

Pass the stone door was a entry room with a few small siderooms that reminded Casil a lot like many of the ruins she’d been in back in Skyrim. The place was much better upkept, obviously lived in and under renovation, but the old handiwork of ancient nords was clear to Casil. As they cautiously checked around the entry room and neighboring rooms for anything of interest, or any trouble, Casil turned her attention to Frea as soon as Sterlas was there to translate for her.

‘What do you know about Miraak?’ Casil asked, keeping a watchful eye on the stairway that descended further into the temple while Frea looked through a chest.

Frea glanced back at Casil. “His story is as old as Solstheim itself,” she began, straightening her back before turning towards the stairs. She walked over to them, glancing down to ensure it wasn’t obviously trapped or occupied before heading down. “He served the dragons before their fall from power, as most did. A priest in their orders.”

Casil followed down after her, stiffening at that. So he was a priest, or at least Frea’s information wasn’t too different from what she’d gathered from the essay. Likely, Frea had been told the same Skaal legend.

“But, unlike most, he turned against them. He made his own path, and his actions cost him dearly. The stories say he sought to claim Solstheim for himself, and the dragons destroyed him for it.”

Frea paused at the bottom of the stairs, the sound of voices drifting down the halls. Casil moved to the side, pressing herself against the stairwell wall to allow Jenassa to move forward with her bow. While her companions dealt with another small group of cultists, Casil lingered back in her own thoughts. If nothing else, the legend they’d been passing around remained the same, even if the essay had been written back in the 3rd era. Once Jenassa motioned for Casil to follow, she slinked forward, knowing Sterlas and Jenassa didn’t want her to bolt ahead and get into trouble.

“We  must be careful in these ruins. Traps can be anywhere, and there will likely be many. Miraak was trying to take power here, and protect himself in the process,” Frea said, pushing aside the body of a cultist with her foot as she passed. They pushed ahead, cautious for danger. Frea glanced back at Casil when Jenassa took the lead. “So, Miraak is after you?” She asked, her voice low so they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.

Casil nodded. ‘The cultists he sent after me called me the false dragonborn,’ she signed, turning to Sterlas so he could tell Frea what she was saying.

Frea halted abruptly, almost causing Casil to bump into her. Her eyes were wide in amazement. “You are dragonborn?” She asked, almost raising her voice in surprise. “That must mean that you can use the voice of the dragons!”

Casil grimaced, looking down at the ground as she gave a shake of her head. She reached up and made a simple motion to her throat, biting her tongue. If she could use the voice of the dragons, she wouldn’t have been on this Divines forsaken island looking for some manner of evil dragon priest.

Frea blinked, before frowning at the small bosmer. “The All-Maker surely has a reason for all of this, then,” she ensured, starting to continue down the hall towards where Jenassa had stopped. “Everything happens for a reason.”

Initially, Casil had assumed Jenassa had stopped because Frea had, but once the group exited out into the next room Casil saw the real reason. The space was the largest open room they’d encountered yet, clearly some sort of main hall or meeting space. The ceiling was high, and Casil’s stomach curled at what hung from it. Several cages dangled from old chains, each containing skeletons, and fenced pathway overhead contained bits and pieces of human remains still bound in shackles as well. More shackles lined a few of the walls that still stood, and Casil could tell that, if nothing else, they were not recent additions. A few old stone tables scattered the room that seemed to be originals next to the things the cultists had brought in, and up on the top of a raised stone platform sat a throne Casil was certain was also original. 

The bosmer paused, staring up at it. It was beautifully carved, and though she couldn’t reach it since the stairway to it had been covered in rubble, she could tell that some of the designs involved the contorted bodies of victims. Her stomach curled, digging her nails into her palms.

“I do not wish to imagine what kinds of things happened in this chamber,” Frea whispered, peeking down a large spiral staircase that lay at the center of the room. “Who were the poor souls trapped in these cages? What tortures did they suffer at Miraak’s hands? Was it in service to the dragons, or for his own purposes…?”

Casil didn’t respond. She didn’t  _ want  _ to hazard a guess. This room was enough to confirm her worst ideas and suspicions, and though the staircase before them lead further down Casil suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue. But she didn’t have that  _ choice. _

Sterlas walked over to her, giving her a simple worried glance. Casil returned it briefly while Jenassa and Frea made sure the room was clear.

If the person she  _ was  _ looking for was this Miraak, was he someone who could be reasoned with…? Was he someone she could trust  _ at all  _ to help her slay Alduin? Was he someone she should give that sort of power to? She knew she wasn’t given much of an option here, but this room… Her eyes scanned the skeletons that dangled above her wearily. This was the throne room of a psychopath. Casil wouldn’t pretend like she hadn’t done terrible things to people or had great morals herself, but in that she knew people like this could not be trusted. She was going to be walking on thin ice with this man. She was going to have to use Dragonrend as leverage to keep herself alive.

Frea was right - the temple was absolutely crammed with traps. The stairwell had lead down into a hall of swinging blades, and every step past that had been another well set and hidden trap of some sort. And the further down they got, the stranger things got. The inner sanctum’s grand, spanning room was adorned with dragon bones, and more and more of the architecture became more… unfamiliar to Casil. There was a subtle shift in carvings and figureheads from the familiar nordic style to something more ethereal and otherworldly. The number of cultists dwindled, and it seemed most of them hung out on the upper levels. 

And certainly, none were hiding beyond the passage that had been hidden by a still-sealed sarcophagus and the draugr that hid it. The air was getting thicker and harder to breathe the further down they went, and Casil was getting claustrophobic memories of Blackreach by the time they had found their way into the next hidden tunnel.

The tunnel that wasn’t even pathed, or fully finished. Casil was shocked they could get through it at all, albeit it was tough. It was clearly only just roughly dug out when it’d been made, and in the thousands of years since its creation the support beams and tectonic activity had caused parts of it to collapse. Jenassa and Frea made their way through first, calling back once they were sure the next person had gotten through. A few places they had to squeeze around giant boulders that had shifted through the ceiling, and Sterlas wasn’t small enough to make it pass. To Casil’s anxiety, he had to wait at the entry.

Which, at least, the room apparently did not go any further. Casil didn’t even feel the need to look for another hidden passage - this was very obviously the end, and the thing that so many hidden rooms had been set up to hide.

The room was circular, with actual supports and stone walls that kept it from collapsing even all of these years later. Even despite the trickling water that ran under the metal grate floor that had grown thick with corrosion, the room remained in tact, and the floor supported them when they stood on it. The walls and the pillar at the center of the room were slick with some sort of algae and other things that were thriving in the dark, damp environment, and the slime only made the maw-like statue that was built into the pillar look all the more intimidating.

The three woman stood before it, Jenassa lifting her lanturn so they could get a better look. The fish-like gargoyle loomed over a pedestal on which a single black book sat, as clean and intact as any other book from the surface despite the slime that hung down from the maw of the statue above it. No title graced the spine or cover of the book, and the material of the cover weren’t any Casil had seen before.

Jenassa and Frea moved aside to allow Casil to step forward once they were sure the room was… safe, to some degree. As safe as a place like this  _ could  _ be.

“There are dark magics at work here. Ready yourself,” Frea said, her hand on the hilt of her sword as she wearily eyed the room around her.

Jenassa scanned the walls as well. “Do either of you know what this place is?” She asked, glancing to see if Casil had a response.

Casil walked up to the book, breath heald. There was no obvious trap around it like she’d thought - no tripwire, no pressure plate, no sigil. The statue appeared to be just that, and the book did not seem to be attached to anything.

No. It didn’t need to be. Casil’s gaze fell on the crest that embossed the front of the book, the singular distinguishing mark on it. Some sort of creature with crab claws and tentacles. Some sort of creature Casil did not want to run into again.

“What’s going on down there?” Sterlas called, his voice muffled and distant.

“It’s a dead end. There’s a book down here and some sort of small shrine room, but nothing else,” Jenassa yelled in return, glancing over her shoulder again as Casil reached up to the book.

She didn’t have a choice. Her fingers curled around the cover, making her stand on her toes to reach and see it. With a deep breath, she peeled back the sturdy front to the title page, and then flipped to the next.

“ _ Waking Dreams. _

_ The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming questions, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead, First…” _

Casil could see the words on the page distort, and then start to slowly peel off - line by line. She furrowed her brow, gaze following the string of symbols as they floated in front of her. Her breath held. Suddenly, the runes solidified into long, slimy tendrils, and before she had a chance to react  they had wrapped around her throat and face. The world felt like it was being sucked downwards, and then everything went black.


	17. XVII - Grind [Meeting]

Casil felt like it had been both forever and simultaneously a fraction of a second when she came to again, her head spinning violently and her stomach feeling like it was about to turn inside out. She staggered, squinting as she tried to focus her eyes on what was before her.

Green. There was a lot of green. The sound of muffled wingbeats, the sound of  _ dragon’s  _ wing beats, met her ears. Her gaze focused on the frilled monster as it came to land across the way, its wingbeats kicking up clouds of dust as it lowered itself for someone to get off of its back.

A man, or at least, Casil  _ assumed _ it was a man. He was taller than anyone Casil had ever met before, clad in black robes adorn with gold embroidery and gold armor hallmark of the dragon priests. And, more notably, a gold  _ mask  _ akin to the priest’s. Four amorphous creatures made of tentacles and layers of tattered, moth-eaten cloth floated before him, seemingly awaiting his command. Casil felt the weight of her body return to her, but the man had noticed her before she could move.

Casil let out a gasp of pain as electricity coursed through her body, the spell coming faster than she could react and harder than she had any chance to absorb. Her knees buckled under her as her muscles spasmed and locked, paralyzing her on her hands and knees. She dug her fingers into the stone below her, breath catching in her lungs as the sound of metal boots approached her. No, no,  _ no- _

She forced herself to tilt her head up just enough to stare into the empty gaze of the mask. Her heart pounded in her chest, and something… something inside of her felt like it was going to be pulled out.

He loomed over her, electricity crackling around one of his hands. “Who are you to dare set foot here?” He snapped, his voice a booming echo that resounded around her. He paused, before letting out a low chuckle. “Ah… you are Dragonborn. I can feel it,” he mused. “And yet.. Despite the dragons you have defeated, you have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield.”

She had to talk to him. She needed to speak to him. Casil gritted her teeth. And yet, she couldn’t move an inch. Her body still twitched and pain jumped through her limbs. She didn’t have time for… whatever this was. 

“ _ Mul Qah Diiv!”  _

The sudden change was immediately apparent, even before the orange-blue glow had formed around him. 

Casil exhaled sharply, hunching over more. The feeling, the  _ sensation… _

Casil could just see the energy that had taken on the form of orange-blue scales over the man’s body, and for a moment he seemed to hesitate too despite being the one who called upon the incredible burst of energy. “This realm is beyond you,” he said after a moment, the edge of glowing claws curling into a fist. “You have no power here. It is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon, they will finish building my temple, and I can return home,” he hissed. He turned away, making Casil wish she could scream. “Send her back where she came from. She can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel,” he commanded, motioning to the monsters that had gathered behind him. 

Casil pushed on her muscles to no avail. She watched the man, watched  _ Miraak _ , disappear out of view as the grey-green robes of the creatures floated in front of her. A sharp pain of some sort of magic assaulted her mind, and very quickly she felt consciousness slip away from her.

 

“What happened to you? You read the book and then… it seemed as though you were not really here. I could see you, but also see through you!”

Casil staggered a bit, the world rushing back around her again. Jenassa moved to support her as she almost fell back. 

“Shit, are you alright?” Jenassa asked, keeping Casil straight as she tried to regain her footing.

Casil closed her eyes tight, gripping the book tightly against her before she nodded. Tucking the book under one arm, she took a deep breath of the musty air before simply signing ‘don’t know’ to Frea, glad Jenassa knew what she was saying. Jenassa let go of her once she had straightened herself out, and Casil took a moment to put the book into her bag before motioning for them to get out of the room first.

 

‘I saw Miraak.’

All three of the others were equally surprised.

“Where? Where is he? Can we reach him? Can we kill him?” Frea asked quickly, looming in front of the table that Casil sat at.

Casil shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose before motioning to the book in her bag. ‘The book took me to him. I don’t know exactly where he was though. He wasn’t… I don’t think it’s  _ Mundas  _ though.’

Sterlas repeated for her, before quickly interjecting his own two cents. “Yeah, and wherever it is ya ain’t goin’ back right now, alright? Don’t touch that thing until we know what it is,” he warned, furrowing his brow at the edge of the book that peaked out of Casil’s satchel. 

Frea exhaled, rubbing her chin. “We should return to my village, and show it to my father. Perhaps Storn can make sense of what is going on,” she suggested, looking to Sterlas and Jenassa as well for their opinion or approval. 

Casil took a moment to think, gaze cast to the dusty, dirty ground. Slowly, she nodded. 

 

The village was small, and quaint. The village had been built in a circle, consisting of a few rows of wood lodges that surrounded a general sort of gathering place  that included a simple shack and covered area that had community resources. The place looked like it would normally be bustling with maybe a hundred or so villagers, but right now it was nearly empty, and Casil didn’t need to ask where everyone was. She’d already seen a bunch of them, at Miraak’s temple. Frea informed them on their way down to the village, while pointing to a green light in the distance, that another portion of the village was at a All-Maker’s stone over there. 

The few remaining people in the village sat in the middle of a small meditation circle made up of some of the older residents on the far end of the tiny community. A visible, somewhat hazy light drifted over the group in a small dome.

Frea picked up the pace as they entered the village circle, breaking into a run towards the few remaining people. “Father!” She called. “I have returned! There is yet hope!” 

A old man at the furthest side of the village opened one eye, turning to look at Frea. “Frea! What news do you bring?” He called. Casil could see that he was still holding his concentration on what she could only assume was the spell that hung over them.

Sterlas and Jenassa paused under the pergola, leaving plenty of space between themselves and the villagers. Casil lingered on the edge of the group as Frea walked up to her father, uneasy.

“I have not found a way to free our people, but… I have brought someone who has seen things,” Frea said, looking to Casil. Storn turned his gaze to Casil, brow furrowing a bit. “She has confirmed that Miraak is indeed behind the suffering of our people.”

Casil tried not to drop her gaze to the snow, holding eye contact with the shaman. The elderly man was quiet, before he let out a low hum.

“I feared that it would be so,” he said, closing his eye again before he shifted his position.

“But how is that possible? After all this time…?” Frea began.

“I fear this is too much that we do not yet know,” the shaman said gruffly. “What is it that this stranger has seen? My magic grows weak, and so does the barrier around our village. Time is short. Tell me what you know.”

Frea looked to Casil, worry on her face before she sat down next to her father to help hold the spell.

Casil walked over. Yes, time was short. She wasn’t sure if he understood how right he was by saying that, and the thought was bitter. She sat down in the snow near Frea and her father, removing both the Black Book and her journal so Jenassa and Sterlas could remain where they were.

‘We found this in Miraak’s Temple. I opened it and was pulled in. I don’t know where I was, but I saw Miraak. At least, i’m pretty sure it was Miraak. He wasn’t here. Not on Mundas,’ she wrote. She held the book at an angle so Storn could read it when he opened an eye at her silence.

His weary gaze scanned what she’d written, then the book in her lap. His face became more troubled. “The legends speak of that place. Terrible battles fought at the temple. The dragons burning it to the ground,” he began.

Casil turned the book quickly, scribbling down something else before turning it back to him. ‘I know. I’ve read it. Your legend about the Traitor and the Guardian.’

Storn paused, before nodding simply. “They speak also of something worse than dragons buried within. Did you learn that from that legend?”

Casil paused, lips pursed. Slowly, she shook her head.

“Miraak was never truly gone,” Storn said, closing his eye again. “And now, he has returned. If you could go to this place and see him…” His gruff voice trailed off for a moment. “Are you like Miraak? Are you Dragonborn?” he asked suddenly.

Casil felt her stomach twist, face paling as Storn cracked his eye once more. She swallowed, before slowly nodding.

“Perhaps you are connected.”

The sentence made Casil nauseous.  _ Connected.  _ She looked down to her journal, brushing some light snow out of it that had drifted down from overhead. Her hand hovered over the page, charcoal pencil in hand, before she just simply wrote a question mark.

Storn hummed again. “I am unsure,” he said, his own voice sounding puzzled. “It may mean that you could save us, or,” the shaman shifted again tiredly, “it may mean that you could bring about our destruction.”

Casil felt a chill roll down her spine, her stomach tightening more. The words made bile creep into the back of her throat.

“Our time here is running out. The few of us left free of control cannot protect ourselves for much longer. To the north of here is Saering’s Watch. Our ancestors once said that a word Miraak learned long ago may be found there. Perhaps with that, you may be able to break the hold on our people, and put an end to this evil magic before it consumes us all.”

Storn fell quiet again, closing his eye for a final time. Silence fell over him and the rest of the villagers, and the only sound became the soft howling of wind over the empty rooftops. 

Casil remained sitting for a few minutes, and Sterlas and Jenassa didn’t bother her. She swallowed tightly. Finally, she returned the two books to her bag and stood, brushing snow out of her shawl and her robe before slowly wading back to her companions. ‘Let’s set up camp,’ Casil signed, nodding her head. She needed to think. 

 

They found a overhang that was out of the wind between the village and Miraak’s temple. Sterlas had spent the last of the sunlight making a quick, rough wall with branches of pine to help block the wind from coming in, and the group settled down for the evening around a fire. 

Casil was quiet, deep in thought. Jenassa and Sterlas let her be. She was figuring things out, and both knew if she wanted help or opinions she’d ask for them. Until then, they both focused on making their simple camp as safe and comfortable as possible. While most of the island’s civilians seemed to be out of the picture as a problem, there were still plenty of wild animals, and they all knew they now needed to keep an eye on each other when they fell asleep.

Casil whittled at a branch, brow furrowed as her mind worked on overtime. 

Saering’s Watch would be of no use to her. Even if there was some… some magical word of power there, presumably something like  _ Dragonrend,  _ she couldn’t use it. No word of power was worth anything to her. So that piece of information was… useless to her, really. So all of that was out of the picture, and not something she had to worry about right now.

Some scraps of wood were launched into the fire a few feet in front of her with the force of her swipes. The temple, she decided. She’d start with what she learned at the temple. And what she learned… wherever she’d gone. She had her guesses, but right now she didn’t want to think about it. That was next.

Miraak. There was no doubt about it now - Miraak was alive. Miraak was alive, somewhere, and he was a Dragonborn too. She could feel it. 

Casil turned the stick in her hand, working on another side so the point would stop sloping to one side.

That  _ shout.  _ The power, the form - She swallowed hard. It was familiar. The feeling in the pit of her stomach. The way her whole self seemed to be pulled forward. The tingle of energy. He was Dragonborn too, and Casil knew with such certainty of that now that it made her skin crawl. 

And he was a madman. His temple had been filled with proof of it. The torture implements in his throne room, the trophies and sculptures made of dragon bones, the piles of traps, the carvings on the wall and on his throne, his cultists…  _ him.  _ What was his response to her?

To paralyze her, to mock her, to just walk away so  _ unconcerned  _ about her. Hadn’t he sent his cultists after her? Just to be so…  _ uncaring  _ that she’d found him? The way he walked, held himself, talked - arrogant, vain, prideful. But she couldn’t lie that she could see how  _ powerful  _ he was. The spell that had hit her had hurt her more than any she could remember, and he’d fired it with such speed and accuracy that she had no chance to react - dazed or not. That wasn’t even to mention his  _ size.  _ Casil had seen tall nords and orcs, but Miraak beat all of them by a head. Someone with that much confidence and cruelty was not someone to take likely, and imposed a serious danger on both herself and  _ everyone.  _ She didn’t want to be a hero, and she knew she was no shining beacon of morality, but she wasn’t a fool to know unleashing a man like that on the world was a mistake, and likely only a hair better than what she was releasing him to stop. Better, but only by the slimmest margin that Casil wasn’t sure was  _ worth  _ it. If he had a island of people already under his control, just as things were now, she didn’t want to know what he was fully capable of.

_ She can await my return with the rest of Tamriel. _

Casil turned the stick again.

Apocrypha. That was where he was. Casil ran her tongue over the edge of one of her teeth. That’s why Hermaeus Mora had found her. That’s why he’d pointed this out. That’s who was on the cover of this book. All of this, in some capacity or another, came back to the Daedric Prince of Fate and Knowledge, and Casil didn’t like. Casil had very thoroughly tried to avoid the Prince, his relics, and his followers. She knew she’d dipped her fingers into her own daedric dealings and brushes with Oblivion, and she knew her own choices would no doubt have repercussions she wasn’t yet aware of. But Hermaeus Mora... Oh, people thought of him as not  _ strictly  _ malevolent like some of his kin, but Casil knew not to trust him. She didn’t need to know where things lead - she could see the web, and she wasn’t touching it. Hermaeus Mora was looking for something, wanted something, had planned  _ something,  _ and Casil could see his bait and lure. He knew she was  _ desperate.  _

And she was afraid to see what he wanted. She was afraid to see where things ended.

Which lead to what to  _ do.  _ Casil sighed, finally resting the stick in her lap before sticking the knife back into its sheath on the ground. She ran a hand through her hair, resting her elbows on her knees as she thought for a moment. She had not gotten a chance to talk to Miraak, but he had been there and he had seen her. Him, four of Hermaeus Mora’s seekers, and interestingly an entire dragon. But Hermaeus Mora… he didn’t seem to be there. Casil glanced to the Black Book. She had to go back. If that was where she could make contact…

Casil reached out, removing the book from her satchel. 

Sterlas glanced up from where he was cutting potatoes into a pot across the fire. “Casil…” He warned, pausing halfway through bisecting a spud. 

Casil glanced up at him. ‘I have to. If this is how I contacted him…’

Sterlas grimaced. “...Be safe then, kid. We’ll keep an eye on ya. I don’t know how that thing works, but ya better come back in one piece if ya see trouble, alright?” he said, finishing cutting the potato before motioning the knife towards Casil.

Casil took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile at him before she settled the book in her lap. Slowly, she opened it to the first page again and began to read like she had the first time. Once more, the words on the page peeled off into tentacles, making Casil stiffen. She forced herself to hold still as they lashed out and grabbed her again, praying that Sterlas couldn’t see what was happening. That was the last thing the poor man needed.

 

The sensation of shifting between Mundus and Oblivion wasn’t as bad this time, but when Casil came too again in Apocrypha she was still disoriented and a bit woozy. She braced herself, quickly scanning her surroundings to see if anyone was here to attack her again this time. She was in the same location as the time before, but this time nobody was there.

Slowly, Casil blinked. Now able to see clearly and not immediately attacked, Casil could take in the sight around her. 

It was almost like a island of some sort, a simple stone platform  _ just  _ above a sea of black slime. Pillars of books lined a few of the edges, and at the far end of the platform was a word wall. Other places in the sea of slime and sky of sickly green were other islands and pillars similar to the one she was on of varying shapes and sizes - including one not far from her that reached so far up into Apocrypha’s sky that she had to lean back to fully see it. Paper and parchment scattered the floor, occasionally shifting in whirlwinds with the breeze.

So, this was Apocrypha. Casil grimaced. It was.. Well, she wasn’t sure what she expected the Prince’s realm to look like, but it seemed…  _ right.  _

Casil sighed, turning to look behind her. Books, more books - and then a giant golden eye, and many other eyes and tentacles. Casil’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and she lurched backwards, almost tripping over herself in surprise as Hermaeus Mora chuckled.

“ _ And so you arrive before me… as I knew you would _ ,” the Daedric Prince said, his eye narrowing in delight. “ _ This is Apocrypha, where all knowledge is hoarded. Sate your thirst for knowledge in the endless stacks of my library. If you tire of your search, read your book again and return to your mortal life… for a time. The lure of Apocrypha will call you back. It is your fate _ .”

Casil gritted her teeth. ‘What game are you playing?’ she dared to sign.

“ _ Mmm? You have entered  _ **_my_ ** _ realm _ ,” Hermaeus Mora reminded her, the tentacles spreading out to creep closer around her. Casil stepped back, but the tendrils had caged her in faster than she could move. “ _ So… really… it should be I that ask  _ **_you_ ** _ what it is that you’ve come here for. _ ”

Casil could feel him trying to walk her into a corner with her answer. What did she seek from  _ him.  _ What could he offer her in return for… Divines knew what. ‘You already know what I need.’

Hermaeus Mora hummed, the eye rotating to one side in amusement as the smaller eyes around him faded in and out of existence like ethereal bubbles. A tentacle emerged from amongst the masses, darting out to coil under Casil’s neck and against her throat. “ _ So… you seek the knowledge then to fix your little... problem…”  _

Casil pulled back away from the tentacle, making his eye narrow slightly. She reached up and gripped her throat for a moment, looking down at the ground as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. 

The knowledge to fix her voice. The thought and possibility had never crossed her mind. She gritted her teeth. 

Hermaeus Mora chuckled, the tentacles growing denser as  the eye closed in the distance between them. “ _ That knowledge exists, here in my domain. The knowledge that would let you become the hero that you were meant to be _ ,” the daedra whispered, his voice a slow, steady stream of words.

She had never had her voice. She had accepted that she never would. She had come to terms with who she was. And this knowledge would come with a price. 

Would asking Miraak for his help not? Would that not be more risky? Less reliable? Short term? 

Hermaeus Mora’s eye was uncomfortably close, and Casil could not move from where she stood. The tentacles wrapped around her with only just enough move to sign a response.

The choice was obvious. She knew that. 

Hermaeus Mora waited patiently, expectantly, for the answer he knew would come from her.

Casil looked up at him.

‘No.’

The eye blinked. “ _ No? _ ” it repeated, hardly a word as much as the fringes of the very nature of the word in the back of Casil’s head, a whisper that crept and tickled the edge of her mind. 

Casil repeated the motion again, tilting her chin up this time. ‘I have another solution. I do not need that knowledge. I do not need to be fixed.’ She tensed as the tendrils tightened closer, now starting to push against her and confine her. She could see the edges of anger creep into the giant green-gold orb in front of her.

“ _ You believe you can use Miraak to save you? Amusing, _ ” Hermaeus Mora hissed, his voice laced with anger as much as a sort of twisted glee. “ _ To what use would your rival be to you.. That you cannot solve by simply having your voice back…? What… possible… ends… would you have… that would benefit you in which you use him and not… simply … fix… your imperfection…?”  _

Casil swallowed, trying not to let the claustrophobia and threat of being crushed get to her. ‘What would you seek from me in return for that knowledge?’ Casil dared to sign.

“ _ I can give you the knowledge you seek. Return your voice… give you a piece of what you need in order to defeat your enemy. In return, you will destroy Miraak, and serve me as my champion, _ ” Hermaeus Mora replied, some of the tentacles around Casil pulling back just slightly. “ _ Miraak has served me well, and he was rewarded. I can grant you the same power he wields, but all knowledge has its price. But surely… you must know that. I know you are no … stranger… to deals… But I assure you… you will rewarded handsomely in my… servitude.”  _

Destroy Miraak. That was why Mora wanted her here. That was why he’d pointed out the message. He offered her power. The power Miraak had, whatever that fully entailed. For his death. 

Casil was no fool. She could see the trap Mora had set, and now her worries had been confirmed. And it only sparked the stubbornness that had made her refuse the offer in the first place. 

Casil glanced down to the side, as if contemplating his offer. The only problem was, he had her in a vice. If he wanted, he could simply destroy her right there. But then what? He wouldn’t get what he wanted. Maybe he’d let her live, if only because it meant there was still another opportunity to ensnare her. If she was dead, presumably, there wasn’t. And if she was dead, the rest of the world was fucked, unless whatever Miraak had planned resolved before Alduin ate the world and he knew how to stop Alduin himself. If Mora didn’t kill him first either. Normally, trying to outsmart the Daedric Prince of Fate would be something Casil thought impossible, but when she’d said no… she’d seen a flash of surprise. He hadn’t been expecting her refusal - and if he was feigning it, she had no way of telling. It seemed genuine enough, and that was the best she had to go on.

‘Isn’t Miraak your servant? Why set me up to destroy him?’ Casil decided to sign.

“ _ He has served me long and well. But he grows restless under my guidance. His desire to return to your world will spread my influence more widely, but it will also set him free from my direct control. It may be time to replace him with a more… loyal… servant… One who still appreciates the gifts I have to offer. _ ” 

If that was supposed to be reassuring, it had done anything but. Hermaeus Mora wanted Miraak dead because Miraak didn’t want to be in Apocrypha anymore. How long had he been trapped in there…? Casil’s mind scrambled rapidly. Hundreds of years. No,  _ thousands?  _ Her brow knitted together a bit. She couldn’t blame him for wanting out. And it wasn’t a good sign.

“ _ So… _ ” Mora’s slow drawl pulled Casil’s attention back to him. “ _ Do we have a deal…? _ ”

Casil straightened her back, and shook her head. No. There would be no deal.

The tentacles around her froze, and for a brief moment Casil was afraid that things were going to end there. To her relief, the tendrils retracted as Mora’s eye narrowed again. “ _ You will return here, when you see that you cannot succeed in this… plan… like you think you can. My offer still stands. It is inevitable _ ,” he said, before his form disappeared into the murky, humid air.

Casil didn’t relax immediately, tensed in anticipation for him to suddenly return. But he didn’t. She was met with with the low, subtle bubble of the oily ocean around her, and the gentle sound of paper on the breeze.

Casil bit her lower lip, looking around. Was it wise then to look for Miraak now, if Mora had just been interacting with her? She walked forward, pretending to carefully move to look around the nearest bookshelves. For all she knew, the Daedric Prince could still be watching, waiting.

Her eyes scanned one of the twisting bookshelves before her. It was smashed with books of all different shapes and sizes, but all of them were black with no titles, no authors, nothing. Her fingers traced over the back of the many books. 

She could go back, and try again tomorrow. See if Mora appeared again. Could he always tell? Did he know what was going on? He must have, to some extent. He knew Miraak wanted out. Casil’s index finger hooked into the top of a book, pulling it back. She paused. No. She didn’t need to give into that temptation. She pushed it back, exhaling sharply. 

Tomorrow. Give it time. Maybe Mora would leave, if he was still there. She turned around and scanned the platform, before looking up at the tallest spire in the ooze. A dragon, a different one than the one she’d seen before, was circling around in the sky above the tower. Miraak… he was around here. He’d been there before. He’d be there again. Casil reached in for her bag, and sure enough the Black Book was there. She pulled it out, opening it to stare at the pages. Tomorrow.

 

“Any luck?”

Casil closed her eyes, letting the world settle and her eyes adjust again to the firelight before she shook her head. She could hear Jenassa and Sterlas shift around the fire, and the sound of something being moved towards her.

“Well, you’re back just in time for dinner,” Sterlas said, forcing a chuckle.

How long had she been out? It hadn’t seemed like  _ that  _ long, but before she’d gone into Apocrypha Sterlas had still been cutting potatoes. Casil cracked her eyes open, squinting at the bowl of stew left in front of her as Sterlas walked back to sit down on his chopped log he’d claimed as his seat. Casil put the book back into her bag, shaking her head out before reaching to pick up the bowl.

‘I’ll try again tomorrow,’ Casil signed after settling the bowl into her lap.

“Is… it safe to be doing that?” Jenassa asked, worried.

Casil stirred her soup, letting it cool off before she gave a shrug. Honestly, she didn’t know. She doubted it, but what choice did she have? Right now, her options were to make a deal with a Daedric Prince, or take the gamble on a loose cannon. 

What choices those were.

 

They did not move from their camp the following day. The three had taken turns keeping watch on each other to make sure nobody wandered off in the night, and Casil waited until everyone was awake and alert before she brought the Black Book back out again. 

Casil brushed some snow and dirt off the cover as she settled down on her bedroll, hunkered down under the overhang in case something happened. This time… she really hoped she could find  _ Miraak  _ and  _ talk  _ to him, and she prayed Mora was nowhere to be seen. Giving a nervous exhale, Casil opened the book again.

 

Same place as before. And once again, it appeared as if she were alone on the platform. 

Casil spun quickly this time, checking immediately to see if the wall of eyes was directly behind her again. To her relief, it wasn’t. Exhaling and nodding to herself, she examined the state of Apocrypha for the day.

Very little, if anything, seemed to have changed. The books remained more or less the same as they had been when she’d left them, the word wall remained at the far end of the platform, and all the islands around her seemed to be in the same spots. She craned her neck back to look up at the giant tower in the distance. No dragons circled the spire today, making Casil’s first plan to find Miraak rather useless.

Casil paced over to the word wall, figuring she should examine that first before leaving or going anywhere else. 

Unreadable, as always, but there was no reason for her not to copy it. Her fingers slowly dragged over the surface, feeling the carvings. Her fingers came to settle on one of the words.

_ Diiv. _

_ You. _

Casil’s fingers traced around the edge of the three letters, feeling them tingle slightly as she did so. Not  _ hi,  _ you, as a pronoun, the word. But her. Her being. What she was. Something deeper. 

She pulled her hand away, pulling out her journal. Quickly, she scribbled down what was written on the wall, hoping that the writing would remain there when she woke up in Tamriel again. How still everything worked between Mundus and Apocrypha she wasn’t sure, but there was  _ hopefully  _ no harm trying. Closing and returning her journal and pencil to her bag, she looked around. Hermaeus Mora still hadn’t shown himself, and she hoped it remained that way. The two dragons over the spire still circled like oversized vultures, so Casil decided now was the time to do what she’d come there for.

She scanned the little island she was on. The word wall sat on one far point, and the rest of it stretched into a tangle of bookshelves, staircases, and strange architecture that ascended up and connected it to other islands. In the distance, Casil could see Seekers perusing the books further in. She would have to be cautious not to catch their attention. She wasn’t sure if they were inherently aggressive, but she didn’t want to find out. Making sure everything was secure and ready, Casil headed forward and up the flight of stairs, beginning her ascent into the non-euclidean labyrinth of bookshelves ahead of her.

 

Casil could see the draw of this place, and how people got lost in it. The bookshelves were endless, and even without an serious distinction between each book, she could almost  _ feel  _  the knowledge calling out to her. Her fingers itched to walk over to a shelf and start looking, scouring the endless shelves for what knowledge they might contain. If it weren’t for her focus on her task ahead, she knew full well that she would probably get sidetracked and trapped somewhere like this - even knowing how dangerous it was. It was no wonder Miraak had gotten trapped, and it was no wonder that Hermaeus Mora had assumed she’d make a deal with him. It was a greatly tempting offer, and the idea that she wasn’t taking it disappointed her more than she’d like to admit. She’d stolen hundreds of books out of the College of Winterhold - this place made all of that, all of those collections, look like note scraps in comparison. She had to keep focused on her plan, on her goal, or she was going to stray off her path.

A few times, she slowed anyways. Apocrypha made no sense - turns that shouldn’t have made a circle lead her back to the same places, tunnels that sloped upwards made her come out  below her original platform, and even places she  _ thought  _ she’d been before lead to totally different places when she took the same routes. Books and desks scattered the place with the temptation to take a break and just read a book or two, and each time Casil felt herself faltering a bit more.

How long had she been gone in Tamriel? Five seconds? Five minutes? Five  _ hours?  _ How long had passed in Apocrypha? Had any time passed at all? There was absolutely no way of telling. Nothing changed - there was no weather, no day or night cycle, nothing. Everything remained ambient and in the exact same state as it was when she’d first arrived, and the hallways and bookshelves continued to stretch further, and the books and desks kept calling her name.

No wonder Miraak wanted out. 

Casil sighed, stopping in the intersection of three different paths. One, a stairwell that visibly just lead up further to another circular room of book walls. Another, a hallway made of unusual circular lattice that made Casil a little queasy to look at. And the other, a simple bridge of metal that connected to another island. Casil scratched her chin, putting her hand on her hip as she looked between them. The spire still lingered out there on the horizon, but no matter what Casil did she couldn’t seem to reach it or actually get any closer than where she’d been when she started. It was infuriating. She wasn’t sure if she could even  _ reach  _ it by anything but a dragon, but it was her only point of reference and her only guess as far as places to look. The Seekers and occasional Lurker seemed to leave her alone for the most part, and when they’d grown irritated she’d been able to slip away before causing too much trouble. Besides them, she’d seen nothing else. No dragons, no Hermaeus Mora, no Miraak.

Good riddance. How long was she going to wander around before she should go back to Tamriel? She furrowed her brow, deciding to head up the stairs. They lead to a platform that was surrounded by a spiraling staircase that climbed up and up around the edge of the wall. Bookshelves lined the lower half, and here and there more platforms jutted out where desks and odd lights sat. If this place wasn’t a Daedric Prince’s realm, she’d find it rather quaint. She eyed around the opening, before craning her neck to look. The lattice and bookshelf walls extended upwards quite a ways, the spiral staircase following it up. Several platforms cropped out here and there, blocking much of the light on the bottom floor from… whatever the light source that illuminated the sky was. More stairs. Good. She supposed she could head back, but at least she’d seen some other pathways lead off from various places around the tower. 

She lowered her gaze again, adjusting her satchel on her shoulder before stepping forward. 

For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of a footstep following her own. She halted sharply, furrowing her brow with a double-take. 

The sharp, firm point of a blade dug into her lower back, not enough to break her clothing, but enough to cause discomfort. 

Casil stiffened, eyes widening. She didn’t dare move. Damn it.

The blade twisted, making Casil inhale sharply as she was forced to take a step forward. “I thought I had made it clear that you do not belong here,” a low voice growled, metallic and laiden with mild irritation. 

Casil pursed her lips tightly. She didn’t need to see who it was. That voice… it was unmistakable. She was silent, racking her brain for a way to respond without moving. Damn it all. She felt the blade press deeper into her back, the tip breaking through the fabric of her clothing to rest uncomfortably against her skin.

“And you have nothing to say, dragonborn?” Miraak questioned, twisting the blade again to make Casil squirm slightly in discomfort. “Or do you now realize your mistake?”

Casil closed her eyes tightly, before daring to shake her head. Casil could hear Miraak scoff, but she decided to risk trying to raise a hand. Miraak was still, not relenting on the blade pushed into her spine, but he did not speak. Casil shakily raised her hand to be level with her head, taking a deep breath. She doubted this was going to get anywhere, but it was the best she had right now. Very slowly, very carefully, she spelled out four letters - first in sign language, and then again by trying to draw the letters in the air.

‘Mute.’

There was a pause, and Miraak snorted. “ _ Lo.  _ You expect me to believe such lies?” He scoffed. Casil nodded her head stiffly. She felt the sword pull away, but before she could sigh in relief it came back, this time pushing through her back to her stomach. 

Casil’s eyes flew open as she was pushed forward with the force of the jab, a weak, pathetic exhale of pain the closest she could get to a cry. Miraak removed the blade, letting Casil fall to the ground in pain. Agony wretched through her gut, and Casil shakily reached down to grab the hole in her stomach. She could feel warm blood between her fingers, and soon the taste of copper filled her mouth. 

Miraak didn’t budge beyond resting  the bloody tip of the sword onto the ground in front of him, resting both of his hands idly on the hilt as he watched the bosmer seize on the ground in pain. “So, you are,” he mused, sounding more bored than anything.

Casil took a few shaky breaths, trying to fight through the shock and panic. Each exhale brought more blood into her mouth, and her body coughed weakly - only worsening the pain at the movement. She screwed her eyes shut, shakily trying to push her hand under the torn piece of her clothing so she could press her palm flat against the 5-inch gouge that ran through her body. Magic surged through her hand, and she managed to focus and keep herself steady and still long enough to close the worst of the damage. The pain didn’t really lessen, and she was certain she was still bleeding through her back, but she prayed she couldn’t…  _ die…  _ here. She wasn’t  _ fully  _ here, right…?

Casil cracked an eye angrily up at the other dragonborn, spitting a mouthful of blood out before she tried to prop herself up with one arm. Carelessly, Casil used her blood to scrawl her response to Miraak.

‘Need help. No fight.’

She shakily tried to sit up once it was written, moving to try to heal her back while Miraak observed the bloody message.

She saw the edge of the blade disappear out of her sight as she sat slumped over, and she flinched in anticipation for the blade to come back. To her relief, instead he simply wiped it clean on the hem of his robes before returning it to his sheath. He turned, walking over to lean against the nearest wall with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“Help? And what, pray tell, would you be asking me to  _ help  _ you with?” Miraak asked, not even remotely concerned about her current position or what he’d just done to her. 

Casil glowered at him. She was right. This man was absolutely out of his mind, and here she was, trying to reason with him. Part of her wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and find Hermaeus Mora, but she pushed the idea out of her mind once her back was patched up enough to  make her feel safe enough that she wasn’t going to just bleed out - if that was at all possible there. She wasn’t itching to find out. She shakily wiped her bloody hands off on her robes before grabbing her pencil and a loose sheet of blank paper from the floor. How did he not know what she needed help with? With all this information, surely he was aware of  _ something  _ about the outside world’s current state?

‘I need your help defeating Alduin.’

Casil held it up, spitting out more blood to try to rid her mouth of the taste. 

Miraak didn’t move, didn’t react. Casil furrowed her brow, keeping the paper held up as long as her shaky hand could manage before she had to lower her arm. When she did, Miraak pushed himself away from the wall, turning to walk the way Casil had come in.

She stared at him in confusion. Was… was he  _ walking away _ ? Without even responding? She took a deep breath before pushing herself to her feet, struggling through the pain before she staggered after Miraak.

Before she could reach him, he stopped and whipped around to face her, making her stop equally quickly by catching herself on the lattice that circled the small path. “Do you think me a fool?” He asked, towering over her. Casil furrowed her brow, before shaking her head rigorously. Miraak moved sharply over, forcing her back against the lattice before caging her in with his giant frame. “You have spoken to my master. I am no fool. Whatever plans you intend to cage me in, I will not fall for,” he hissed, leaning in closely.

Casil pressed herself back against the wall, wincing as she did so. Even if she were to stand up straight, she only came to the bottom of his ribcage. She had to tilt her head back as far as the lattice would allow her to in order to look up at him. ‘I’m not lying,’ she signed, praying he understood that.

Miraak scoffed again. “Truly, are you that  _ weak _ , dragonborn? I had expected  _ better  _ of you when I sent you back to Tamriel. Perhaps I was wrong to have done so,” he sneered.

Casil swallowed, feeling shame grip her chest - though at this point, she couldn’t tell how much of it was shame or just… the overbearing feeling that rolled off of him. ‘I’m mute. I can’t. Shout. I can’t use my voice,’ she admitted, trying to keep her face steady. She didn’t need to be any weaker than she already was.

“I have no doubt that Hermaeus Mora offered you that back. Why should I believe you are here truthfully?” He snapped, tense. 

Paranoid, but Casil couldn’t exactly blame him. She wasn’t sure if her answer would even suffice, even if it was truth. ‘I don’t want to make a deal with him,’ she decided to answer. 

“And, instead, you come to me seeking my help?” He questioned. Casil nodded. Miraak pulled away, giving her a chance to breathe. He moved to lean against the fence across from her, folding his arms again.

Casil weakly shifted a hand up to adjust her robes, grimacing as they brushed across sensitive flesh. ‘I tried. I can’t use it. Nobody else can. You’re the only person I could find.”

Miraak did not immediately respond. “They wanted to use me to deal with Alduin - Hakon and the rest. I chose otherwise.” 

Hakon. She remembered that name. He was one of the ones she’d seen at the Throat of the World, when she’d learned Dragonrend. So… he was supposed to have been there too? All of those years ago? Casil looked Miraak over, leaning heavily against the wall. Was that why they failed? Her lips drew into a thin line. ‘If you don’t help, everyone will die.’

Miraak chuckled lowly, the metal scales on his pauldrons rattling together. “And why should I care?” He cocked his head to the side. “If you cannot defeat him yourself, dragonborn, then you have no place in being here. I will deal with him when I return to Tamriel,” he said, shifting forward. Casil pressed back against the gate as Miraak reached out to grab her, his leather clad hand slowly curling around her thin neck. Casil didn’t have the strength even at her best to break his hold. Weakly, she squirmed, trying to pull his hand away as he leaned in again. “I had intended to spare you, unless you had interfered with my plans, but if you truly are this weak perhaps it would be kinder to kill you now.”

Casil gasped sharply, tilting her head back as her thin fingers pressed into the single hand that overpowered her. Tears built at the edge of her eyes as she glared at the slits in the mask. Sucking in the deepest breath she could, she tried to formulate a response. ‘Know dragonrend.’

Miraak’s slow, progressive squeeze on Casil’s neck paused. “And?” he asked, his voice questioning.

Casil tried to find some sort of purchase on the lattice behind her so she could respond again without suffocating. ‘Do you?’

“I do not need it,” he replied flatly, his fingers tightening again.

Shit. Casil closed her eyes with another weak gasp, trying to pry his fingers away again. Did he… really not need it? Had she been hinging her whole life on that? Her nails dug into the leather, trying to pull it away before she feebly hit his hand. ‘Need. Need,’ she signed, feeling the world around her start tos pin. If she died here… would she die outside of the book? 

His grip stopped again, and she could tell he was contemplating the situation - which was all fine, if he wasn’t crushing her windpipe and keeping her just short of what would keep her conscious. Even with her eyes closed, Casil felt like everything grew darker, before the sensation of being choked was gone. 

 

Frigid air met Casil’s needy lungs as Tamriel rushed back in around her, her exhale sharp and pained as she gasped for breath. Her hands pulled away from the book to grip her neck, coughing hard. Tears spilled down her cheeks with each cough.

“Shit, Casil- ya finally back,” Sterlas said, his hands on her shoulders immediately.

Casil leaned into the werewolf’s side, still feeling like she was being strangled. Jenassa pulled the Black Book away from her, helping Sterlas adjust her so they could make sure she was breathing.

“Casil, deep breaths. If ya choking, let us know,” Sterlas said sternly.

Casil managed to shake her head, rubbing her neck painfully. She could breath, but her body ached and it felt like had been strangle. She looked down to her stomach, shuffling her robes around to see if there was a hole.

Nothing. No sign of being stabbed. No blood, no wound. Even if her stomach and back ached, there was no actual wound.

Casil exhaled slowly in relief, getting herself under control.

“Casil, what happened?”

Casil looked up to her two companions in a daze. ‘I met Miraak again.’


	18. XVIII - Ved [Black]

Jenassa and Sterlas, despite Casil’s attempts at reassuring them, did not feel safe enough after that to stay where they were. If Casil was going to be in any real danger, they were going back to down.

Sterlas didn’t want Casil to touch the book at all again, or to try to reason with Miraak. Reluctantly, Jenassa had to agree - maybe it was a better idea to take up Hermaeus Mora on his deal.

Casil debated on it on their slow journey back to Raven Rock. They were both right - even  _ Miraak  _ was right. Why, in the Divine’s name, would she not take Hermaeus Mora’s deal, and why would she risk trying to ally with Miraak instead? And now that Miraak had lashed out at her - really, he’d lashed out at her  _ again  _ \- it was clear to Jenassa and Sterlas that this was a man who could not be reasoned with. Casil was wasting time trying to side with him, when she could solve all of this by getting her voice back.

Maybe she would. Maybe, Casil thought with bitter irritation, Hermaeus Mora was right. He knew, and she’d be back, and he’d be  _ right.  _ That alone was almost enough to throw the idea back out the window again.

Casil left the Black Book in her bag for the rest of the day. When they reached the inn again, she threw her bag under her bed, keeping it out of her sight. They assessed their plans, discussed what should be done, and reassessed what Casil would do the following day.

Of course, things never went as planned. That would be too easy.

Casil blinked as consciousness, or more specifically she realized,  _ will,  _ was returned to her.

The shores of Solstheim were illuminated by by the light of the two moons, allowing Casil to see what was around her fairly well despite the fact that it was clearly in the middle of the night. She felt the cold ash under her bare feet, and once consciousness had returned she shivered at the coldness over her bare arms. She looked around, brow furrowed as she tried to let her thoughts collect themselves. Where was she…? Somewhere on the shore, east of Raven Rock it seemed. As she turned her gaze forward again, her eyes fell on the ghostly form of the former Dragon Priest. With his arms folded, of course.

Casil’s gaze held steady. He looked like a ghost, but he was very much…  _ there  _ in that regard. Was this what it looked like to people when she was in Apocrypha? She didn’t move, waiting for the priest to talk first - if he really was there, at least, and this wasn’t a figment of her imagination or Divines knew what.

“Dragonborn,” he said simply, his voice sounding like it was coming through behind muffled glass and a thin layer of water.

Casil tilted her chin up a bit. ‘Miraak,’ she signed, punctuating each letter with a stiff motion. 

Miraak shifted, walking leisurely towards her. Casil held her ground, trying not to shiver in the cold night air. Apparently Miraak had walked her out in nothing but her loose sleep top and a pair of oversized briefs she wore to bed. Casil had to assume it was Miraak, and… whatever it was he was doing to control people. She knew she had not walked out there willingly. Miraak stopped a few feet before her, head cocked to the side again. Neither of them said anything, staring down the other to speak first. Casil’s eyes narrowed. He’d brought her out there first. She expected him to explain himself.

Finally, Miraak seemed to resign. “I seem to have cut our meeting short,” he began simply, “before we could complete our business.”

Casil snorted this time, fighting the urge for some snarky response. Ah yes, cutting their meeting short was what that was, because a sane person cut meetings short by  _ strangling the other person into unconsciousness after stabbing them.  _ Casil’s lip twitched. She had to tread carefully. Snarky remarks wouldn’t get her anywhere. ‘So you brought me out in the middle of the night outside of town to talk to me,’ Casil signed instead.

Miraak’s head turned, as if he were scanning their surrounding. “Mm, is that where we are?” He questioned.

Casil blinked. Could he… not see it? Not see where he was? Interesting. She nodded once he looked back at her again. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t walk me into the damn ocean,’ she added. ‘You could have given me my clothes first, or at least my shoes. I must ask that you not control me again.’

Miraak chuckled. “I am afraid I cannot do that. Not just yet.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. “You know Dragonrend.”

Casil nodded in confirmation. ‘And if you help me, I will tell you it, so that we can defeat Alduin-’

“We?”

Casil paused, her hand curling into a fist at chest level in the middle of saying something. The corner of her mouth twitched. ‘Yes. We. You will get Dragonrend when I know, without a doubt, that you will slay Alduin.’

Miraak shook his head with another low chuckle of amusement. “ _[Laat dovahkiin mindok rek mindok pruzaan grahmindol](x)_ _ , _ ” he said lowly, shifting again. “You will tell me Dragonrend if you expect for me to help you. I will not risk such knowledge being lost if you were to perish.”

Casil’s face crinkled in irritation. ‘No,’ she signed simply. ‘I will teach you when we face Alduin.’

“Then I have no reason to assist you,” Miraak said flatly.

‘There will be no Tamriel for you to return to if you don’t help me,’ Casil signed immediately, her gaze steely. ‘And Hermaeus Mora knows you’re trying to escape.’

Miraak tensed. “...You lie.”

Casil shrugged noncommittally. ‘You said yourself before you  _ strangled  _ me that you thought I was working with him. He gave me a offer, yes. For my voice. In return, I had to kill you.’

Casil could hear the leather of his gloves squeak as he tightened his fingers around his biceps. “You are trying to save yourself.”

Casil idly kicked at a small rock near her foot. ‘Fine. Don’t believe me. But either I come after you, because I have to take Mora’s offer, or Mora just kills you, because he knows you want out.’

Miraak turned, pacing a few feet from her. He moved and folded his hands behind his back before stopping to look out across the ocean, though if what he said was true Casil had no doubt the ‘ocean’ was made of black slime on his end. Casil waited, folding her arms now to try to keep them warm. Solstheim was frigid, and her twig-like arms had lost heat before she’d even come to. 

She let him pace for a few minutes, watching. He was tense. He was weighing the truth of her words and the consequences. He didn’t have a lot of choices either. Neither of them did.

Finally, Miraak seemed to come to some sort of decision. “How long did Hermaeus Mora give you make a decision?”

Casil shrugged. ‘He didn’t. He assumed i’d come back eventually when I realized this wouldn’t work out.’

Miraak drummed his fingers against one of the gold bands around his arm. “Then I do not have much time.”

Casil pursed her lips. ‘I don’t know how you’re trapped there, but what do you need to get back to Tamriel? You said something about your temple being finished.’

Miraak hesitated, his distrust apparent. “The All-Maker stones. I need them under my control.”

Casil nodded slightly. ‘And that’s why you have people building… things… around them.’ 

Miraak let out a low grunt, before he nodded as well. “ _ Geh. _ ”

Casil looked out over the ocean, rubbing her arm for a moment. ‘Then you’re not going to get those done in time.  _ I  _ don’t have that kind of time. Alduin knows I have Dragonrend, but I don’t think he knows I can’t use it. And Hermaeus Mora knows you want to escape, and that I might be going to you for help instead.’ She paused. ‘You need to release everyone from your control.’

“No. That is out of the question,” Miraak replied swiftly. 

Casil shook her head. ‘They’re not fast enough under your control. They work as fast as zombies,’ she signed in exasperation. ‘If you free them, they might work faster. I’ll make sure of it.’

“How?”

‘I’ll pay them to work. And i’ll bring my own work force.’

Miraak looked Casil over, and she didn’t need to see his face to know that he was likely looking her over incredulously. Casil rolled her eyes when the dragonborn let out a barking laughter. “Forgive me, dragonborn, but I find it hard to believe that  _ you  _ might have enough money to bribe this entire island - let alone have any sort of workforce of your own.”

‘It’s Casil. My name is Casil,’ she signed, narrowing her eyes slightly. ‘And I have a lot more money then you apparently think. My workforce doesn’t need money either. And if people won’t work after you’ve released them from whatever you’ve done to control them, you can take them back,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’ll give them the option of working on their own free will, faster than you’d had the working, for money. And their alternative I suppose will be going back to working under your control as a slave instead of a paid worker.’ 

Miraak tucked a hand under his chin, rubbing some hidden part of his face. “You care not for their wellbeing?”

Casil snorted. ‘No. I’m here to fetch you, so we can kill Alduin, and I can save the world or whatever i’m supposed to do and go home. I didn’t want this. I don’t care for these people, or anyone else. If I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t be. But I’m not getting much of a choice.’

Miraak fell silent again, turning his back to contemplate on her offer. Casil rubbed her arms again, wishing he’d hurry up and make up his mind. She was getting further then she’d been expecting at least. Tomorrow she probably would have just given up on it - as much as she didn’t like being dragged out there in the middle of night against her will, she was glad he did. If he hadn’t, things would go very differently when the sun rose tomorrow. She kicked a rock carefully with the side of her foot, sending it into the water. Miraak turned his head slightly to the sound, which made Casil raise a brow. “... If you believe you can help me, then I will give you a week. Anyone who is not working for you by then will return under my influence,” Miraak stated, his voice low. “If what you say is true… I do not have much time. I cannot waste it with your plans if they are not going to work.” The leather of his glove squeaked again as he balled a hand into a fist behind his back. 

He was tense.  _ Very  _ tense. She could see the hunch in his shoulders. He was putting his life in her hands. She was surprised. Casil nodded, waiting for him to look back to her. ‘A week it is. It… It will take me almost that whole week to get my money and my extra help, but.’ She bit her lower lip, looking off to the side. ‘I should be able to convince them at least to work. And if I can’t convince them, then I don’t care if you take them back.’

Miraak’s mask regarded her carefully. “We will meet again, dragonborn,” he replied, before he faded into nothing.

Casil stared off into the darkness where Miraak had been standing. This better be real and not a dream. Casil closed her eyes, sighing tiredly before she turned back towards the town. At least Miraak hadn’t walked her  _ too  _ far, though she was surprised the guards who watched the gate had just let her wander out - unless Miraak had done something to them. Who knew. What she was  _ certain _ of was that she was tired and freezing, and it was time to get back inside - especially before anything attacked her in her nightwear, or before Sterlas and Jenassa noticed she’d walked off in her sleep again.

 

Miraak kept good with his promise. Casil awoke to a town of very confused people - both those who’d been under Miraak’s spell, and those who had avoided it. Rumor had already spread that the strangeness that had taken over the island had suddenly stopped everywhere, and Casil could only hope nobody had touched the damned structures since. She didn’t have much time to act on her plan - and Jenassa and Sterlas hadn’t even the vaguest idea of what had gotten into her.

Amidst the chaos of the town square in Raven Rock - mostly brought on by nearly a hundred of the poor townspeople demanding an explanation as to what had happened, Casil had found herself a podium to her companion’s alarm. And with Sterlas’s reluctant help, the crowd was drawn to her.

And Casil gave her explanation. 

 

Raven Rock, Casil had concluded, was not in a good way. She could tell they were hurting there - little traffic came and went from the tiny town, especially now that strange happenings had been occuring, and she recalled in her research a few days prior that the town had once been a mining town before the mine had apparently dried up. People needed money and work, and nobody wanted the strange magic that had been possessing them to return.

Casil offered the pay. She did not have the  _ exact  _ numbers, she admitted, but she knew she had enough to at least start. She had gold. She would pay for the continuation of the work out of her own pocket, and in return people would be immune to whatever magic plagued the island. Additionally, as people bickered and wondered who on earth she even was, Casil admitted her position, the  _ world’s  _ position.

She was the last dragonborn. People could choose to believe her or not, but she motioned to Jenassa’s armor and to Mirmulnir’s fang that she clutched in her hand that she’d slain more dragons than anyone here had probably ever seen. Additionally, the World-Eater had returned, and time was running out. She did not specify the details, but assured that the completion of the structures around the stone was important to saving the world. 

Nobody could confirm or deny what she was saying, but if nothing else it had given them something to think about. She answered as many fears and questions as she could, the best she could, and if nothing else she at least felt like a chunk of the town was willing to listen. She would not push them to start working that day, since many were exhausted, but she hoped people would start by the next evening.

 

The reavers were next. She’d seen the bands of dunmer here and there while they’d traveled up to Miraak’s temple, and she had found that they’d been the ones working around a few of the other locations. She did not need much to really convince them beyond  _ money.  _ It was pay. And she paid some of them up front if it meant getting them working.

It was the Skaal Casil worried about. 

They did not need money - which, on one hand, meant she had more for those she was going to have to pay to convince to work. But she also had no idea how you bribed people who lived from the land, and who  _ hated  _ the person they were supposed to be working for.

And Casil had almost failed to convince them. On one hand, Casil wasn’t sure if she cared. If they refused to work with their own will, as she made that fully clear. But on the other hand, she didn’t have time that. 

The Skaal did not want to corrupt the All-Maker stones anymore than they already were. The All-Maker stones, Storn had stressed, kept the one-ness with the land - whatever the hell that meant. They were sacred though, and whatever Miraak was doing to them was blasphemous. And if it was for  _ Miraak,  _ for Miraak to  _ return _ , all the more reason not to help. 

They had a week to work on their own accord. And if Casil saw them messing with the structures, she swore she’d bring down her anger on them. Already, a part of the structure around the stone nearest to the village had been knocked down, but Casil made it clear she’d be watching to prevent that from occurring further. She left them with that warning, before moving up to Miraak’s temple.

Cultists still lingered around the structure since the Skaal had vacated the premise. Some had started to work on the structure themselves, while others wearily watched Casil, Sterlas and Jenassa. 

She needed them to return to Skyrim. All of her gold needed to be brought, along with a few other important things.

Every bone she owned, and every soul gem. 

Sterlas and Jenassa were not excited for… any part of Casil’s plan. Leaving her? Leaving her at Miraak’s temple, where they’d been fighting violent cultists before? To get her money, and to get… her necromancy supplies. Which included fishing much of it out of the  _ apiary. _

If it hadn’t been for the pay and, more importantly, the impending end of the world, Jenassa swore she would have drawn the line there. But they went back. They set out before the sun had set, leaving Raven Rock with the whereabouts of Casil in case they needed to contact her. 

Casil made camp outside Miraak’s temple. With help of a few uneasy cultists, she set up a simple tent camp. 

Now, she could only wait. 

 

Miraak did not visit her for the next four nights. Slowly, people picked up their tools and returned to work, though she could tell they waited for proof that she had money. The fact that she’d sent her two bodyguards back to Skyrim with a claim that they were fetching it was at least reassuring enough for many, but others waited. 

On the fourth day, the Skaal brought Casil back to their village to make a deal.

The village as a whole had discussed what to do in great depth, and the tight circle of bodies that had gathered around Casil, Frea and Storn made that abundantly clear. With great displeasure, they had reached their conclusion: they would work. The corruption of the stones would cause damage that would never be fixed, but they understood the weight of the situation. They would work, and in return, Casil would take the Traitor from this land and never return. Her and Miraak were to leave as soon as he had returned, taking him, his magic, and his followers with him, and they would never set foot on the island of Solstheim again. Miraak had brought a great curse to the land, and Casil had only worsened it with her arrival. The damage caused by both of them would never be reversed, but at least it wouldn’t be worsened once they had left.

Casil accepted it without hesitation. She could care less if she never returned to the damned island, and as much as she hated to admit it, the look of disappointment on Frea and Storn’s face in Casil’s apparent betrayal made her stomach churn. Miraak could be dealt with, and if nothing else she just needed him to agree to fuck off until Alduin was dead. After that, she concluded to herself, he was not her problem. She would no longer hold power over him, and she couldn’t truly stop him from coming back if she wished. 

Casil felt the disappointed stares of the entire village boring into the back of her head as she left.

 

Jenassa and Sterlas would be back by the sixth day, Casil guessed, if they made haste. SHe  _ prayed  _ they were back by then, because she needed more people on board with working from Raven Rock to at least meet the number of people Miraak had before. While she hadn’t counted exactly, she at least felt like fewer people now worked on the structure then had before. Even if those working now worked faster, and those who didn’t would end up working anyways, she was hoping to get as many quick, free-willed workers as she could.

  
  


Miraak appeared to her on the fifth evening.

“Your time is running short.”

Casil tensed upon hearing his voice. She’d been loitering at the edge of the temple, looking over the sea of dragon bones that were strewn around the mountain’s summit in the lingering light of the setting sun. The bosmer sighed, turning until she could make out the ghost of the temple’s owner sitting on the stairs a few feet behind her. Convenient for him. She still wondered how… whatever he was doing worked, but it was a question she’d have to ask later. ‘My companions should be returning with my money tomorrow. Everyone else I can convince or buy will be working then, and everyone else you’re free to control again,’ Casil signed confidently.

Miraak rested his arms on his knees. “And the workforce you said you would bring?”

‘They will be constructed before sundown tomorrow as well.’

Miraak’s head tilted. “Constructed?” He chuckled. “So, you are a necromancer. I sensed as much.”

Casil arched a brow. ‘Did you?’

Miraak nodded just slightly. “At first, I thought you a vampire. You are no stranger to the realms of Oblivion, though it seems I was wrong as to which one.”

Casil stiffened a bit. ‘Does it matter? I’m bringing workers. Given that you’ve enslaved the others and given what I’ve seen in your temple, I can’t imagine you’re complaining that they’ll be undead.’

Miraak shifted slightly, but for what reason Casil couldn’t determine. His mask remained passive and emotionless, and it was starting to bug her. “No. I do not care. So as long as they speed up the process. I do not have time to waste.”

Casil looked out over her shoulder at the clutter of bones. Before Miraak had a chance to leave, she glanced to him with a question. ‘Why did you betray them?’

Miraak leaned back, about to get up and disappear to… Divines knew what. His mask tilted in the direction Casil had been looking. “... I assume you must be speaking of the  _ dov, _ ” he said simply. Casil nodded. Miraak pushed himself up, staring down at her with unnerving indifference. “ _ You  _ are  _ dov.  _ Do you not feel it?” he asked, folding his arms.

Casil frowned in confusion. ‘What do you mean? That’s not really an  _ answer _ .’

Miraak scoffed. “You call yourself dragonborn, and yet, you do not know anything about yourself.”

‘I haven’t exactly had a chance to meet any other dragonborn except for  _ you _ ,’ Casil signed back defensively. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t be doing this.’

Miraak shook his head. “Perhaps I should not be surprise that you remain so naive of your nature.  _ We  _ are  _ dov.  _ It is in our nature to dominate,” he said simply, before turning away.

Casil reached out to try to get him to stop, but he was gone. She sighed in frustration, watching his ghostly figure fade into the sunset sky. What kind of answer was that? She turned around and glowered at the dragon skeletons. He was going to be condescending about this and then not even answer her question? Conceited prick. 

She already couldn’t wait to be done with dealing with him. Between his violent attacks in their first two meetings and his general attitude in the last two, Casil was already fed up with him. She could see why Hermaeus Mora kept his deal on the table. Even if she was helping Miraak, he assumed at some point she’d reach a breaking point and give up trying to work with him for one reason or another. He would allow Miraak to continue his escape attempt if it meant possibly giving her a reason to jump ship. She folded her arms tightly across her chest as she brought her shoulders up in irritation. Now she just felt compelled to prove him otherwise. Miraak may be the megalomaniacle madman she’d expected him to be, but somehow he would be  _ just  _ palpable if it mean throwing the Daedric Prince of Fate for a loop. She just had to make sure he didn’t kill Miraak first, or something  _ stupid  _ didn’t find its way into their plans. 

And she had to make sure that this plan didn’t ultimately just  _ kill  _ her. Miraak had made it all too clear that he didn’t care about her well being - and to her shame and fear, her lack of voice and apparent weakness stripped whatever reasons Miraak apparently had initially to keep her alive.

_ I had intended to spare you, unless you had interfered with my plans, but if you truly are this weak perhaps it would be kinder to kill you now. _

She dug her fingers into her arm, looking down at one of the leering dragon skulls. She was weak. Why did that hurt so much to hear? She’d never cared for what people thought of her, or if they thought if she was  _ weak  _ or  _ powerful.  _ Her strengths had never been in outright fighting. But the First Dragonborn’s words stung. They stung like the looks everyone gave her when they found out that her muteness meant she couldn’t shout. It was the same chest-crushing guilt of being unable to fulfill the prophecy, of being unable to do the one thing everyone seemed to associate with being dragonborn, of having to crawl out to this backwater island for help in something she was supposed to do herself.

She shouldn’t have gone to Helgen that day. Maybe if she hadn’t been there, maybe if she hadn’t gone to Whiterun, maybe none of this would be happening. She knew it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t help but go back to it. Over, and over, and over again.

She was never meant to be a hero.

 

To Casil’s relief, Sterlas and Jenassa returned by noon on the sixth day. They had left her home with enough money for a month’s worth of provisions, and Casil knew that she still had items she could sell if worse came to worse when all of this was done. But to have to count out all her gold and calculate how long she could pay people to work pained her. Decades of hoarding, gone to waste to pay a bunch of workers to get some egotistical bastard out of a plane of Oblivion because she couldn’t yell. The thought put Casil in a bad mood.

If nothing else, the very sharp increase in number of people working lifted her spirits a bit. With real money to prove she could keep paying, more and more people took up work until almost the entirety of Raven Rock was at work on one of the stones - even some of the shopkeepers who ran other stores most of the time. As she’d suspected, money was hurting - and even some of the few upper class had found themselves taking up a pickaxe to take advantage of the temporary jobs. The Reavers ate it up just as Casil knew they would - and in a few circles, a slight up in the pay was enough to get them to work even faster. At the end of the day, Casil had most of the island working - even most of the Skaal seemed to be at their closest stone, avoiding Miraak’s temple now that Casil had taken residence up there. Which was fine with her.

The less people that saw what she was doing up there, the better. Sterlas and Jenassa had packed all the bones they could find into burlap sacks stored inside of chests. Even then, a few of them definitely carried an odor that had almost gotten them in trouble and the Windhelm docks, but while it earned them looks nobody had actually figured out was stored inside the chests. With great difficulty, the three managed to cart everything up to the top of Miraak’s temple, where Casil immediately got to work.

She laid out every single bone she had, using the stairs that circled down to the temple’s entry in order to set up skeletons. By the time she was done, she’d managed 82 full skeletons, of which she had 57 soul gems to use to power them. The cultists had searched the temple for any more, and added a few of their own to bring Casil’s work force up to 61 animated skeletons of various races and sizes. She worked well into the night animating them one by one, and when her magicka was drained she made herself sick on potions to fill it again.

Every skeleton Casil could animate was working by the night of the seventh day, and at the turn of the eighth dawn Miraak had taken control of anyone who had refused Casil’s offer. Now, it was only a matter of time.

 

Animating all the skeletons made Casil exhausted. It had taken all of her magicka and then some, and after drinking so many potions she felt too nauseous to get up more than she had to. Which luckily, things ran on their own. Sterlas and Jenassa managed the payments and questions for the most part. Miraak made only one other brief visit on the ninth day, simply checking in before he was gone as suddenly as he appeared.

Casil could tell he was anxious. The work was going noticeably faster, but if she had to guess the work would take at least another week to complete. Did they have that time…? She wasn’t sure if she should go into Apocrypha to pretend like she was still considering Hermaeus Mora’s deal, or if she should stay away. She had wanted to ask Miraak, but he didn’t even give her the opportunity before he was off. Time was ticking, and Casil was wondering how much longer it’d be before Mora acted and tried to stop them. He had to have noticed - there was no way he hadn’t.

What if Miraak was killed? Would Mora come to get her? Would they just be screwed?

Casil rolled over on her bedroll, sighing as she listened to the sound of the skeletons working outside her tent. 

The Black Book waited next to her, but she resisted the urge to grab it. It was the tenth day, and Miraak had contacted her the day before. If he didn’t contact her in two days, she’d go visit him. His visitation had been erratic and had only grown shorter, and she was wondering if he’d suspected Mora was acting on his own suspicions or not.

She dragged her hands down her face. It was nerve wracking, but all she could do was lay there and wait. She couldn’t help with the building, and she still felt drained. She had the ability to draw on lots of magicka, but it did not come back fast - especially if she didn’t have anywhere else to absorb it from.

She didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen when he  _ did  _ get out. He’d already made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care much for her life, or for the fact that she didn’t want to give him the shout until before their fight with Alduin. He’d at least proven he could be  _ somewhat  _ reasoned with, but he was not someone Casil wanted to work with for any longer than she had to. When Alduin was dead, she was getting away from him as soon as she could. What he did, where he went, and whatever else wasn’t her problem. If he wanted to conquer Solstheim or whatever, that was his prerogative and she was not going to stop him. When Alduin was finally dead, she was done with this ‘hero’ work, and she was going home to Falkreath and never emerging from her damned house again.

Assuming she lived through any of this at all.

 

It was the twelfth day, and Miraak had not contacted her again. Casil fidgeted, watching the sun rise slowly from the horizon until it hung in the dusty sky over the temple when she finally couldn’t handle it anymore. Sterlas and Jenassa had gone down to Raven Rock earlier in the morning with some money, and Casil figured they’d be back sooner then later. The skeletons continued to work diligently on the temple with some of the remaining cultists, so if anything went wrong she figured at least  _ something  _ would be there between her and trouble.

Casil propped herself up with a heap of furs she’d gathered in the tent, sitting down on her bedroll with her legs crossed before pulling the Black Book into her lap. Hopefully Miraak was still alive on the other side. She didn’t waste time in opening it up, bracing herself as the runes peeled off to pull her into Apocrypha.

 

Casil held her breath when she arrived into the sickly green realm, half expecting to be immediately faced with Hermaeus Mora’s giant eye or a sea of tentacles. To her relief, neither were to be seen on the platform she usually started at. But, unfortunately, Miraak wasn’t there either.

She quietly cursed, nervously glancing around. If he was, he was hiding again like he had been the first time they’d met. She glanced towards the spire. A dragon circled it, a dark silhouette against the bright green of the sky. If nothing else, the lizard probably knew. 

Casil walked to the word wall, eyeing the seekers off in the distance again wearily before focusing on the dragon. She waited for it to circle around so that it’d be looking in her direction when she hurled the brightest fireball she could into the sky. The fire spiraled up with a trail of black smoke before exploding into a bright fizzle of embers. The dragon veered from its path and started to fly over, beginning a steep dive down from the top of the spire.

Good. Hopefully it was… on Miraak’s side. Casil leaned back against the word wall until the dragon had reached her, coming to land on the platform before her. She recognized it as the same dragon Miraak had gotten off of the first time she’d seen him.

The dragon let out a low rumble in his throat, tilting his head at Casil with curiosity instead of hostility. “ _ Drem yol lok, dovahkiin.  _ Do you come to speak to Miraak?” The dragon questioned.

Casil nodded, feeling herself relax a bit. At least it sounded like he was still alive.

The dragon lowered himself to the ground. “I will carry you to him,” the dragon declared, watching Casil patiently.

Casil blinked. Oh. She hadn’t thought this through, had she? Her face paled a bit, but nervously she walked over to the beast. Riding a dragon had never been something she’d ever considered with any depth before, and while she was no stranger to riding horses or even a werewolf… how similar was a  _ dragon?  _ She had to  make a running jump to get up the side of the dragon’s neck, making him wince when she had to pull on one of his fins to seat herself at the base of his neck like she’d seen Miraak do. 

Once the dragon felt like she was ready to go, he straightened himself. “Hold on,” he commanded, before spreading his wings out wide. With a few running steps, he took off into the sky again.

Casil gripped onto the base of the closest fin, holding onto his neck with her thighs the best she could. The world rushed away below her, and she felt her stomach being left behind. Oh, flying was much,  _ much  _ different. She closed her eyes, trying not to look down at the sea of black oil as the dragon headed towards the spire. She felt the dragon start to spiral around the base of the tower once they reached it, slowly gaining altitude until at last she felt the dragon descend and land onto a solid surface. It wasn’t until he lowered himself down for her to get off his back that she cracked her eyes open.

The top of the tower was lined with four different arches at cardinal points, while the rest of it was mostly covered in books, desks, and makeshift furniture. 

Miraak stood a few feet away, arms folded as he stared down Casil.

Casil took a deep breath before slowly sliding off of the dragon’s back, leaning on him for a second to find her footing before she pulled away and gave the dragon a bow of her head in thanks. The lizard let out a rumble before shuffling away, moving to pull himself on top of one of the arches like some sort of giant perch. Casil watched him, using it as a chance to steel herself before she looked back to Miraak.

‘You had me worried,’ Casil signed, willing to be the one to talk first this time.

Miraak grunted, but did not ask why. “Your plans are… working better than I had initially thought. I was wrong to have doubted you,” he admitted, turning to look out over Apocrypha. “I can feel the work drawing closer to its end, but I do not know if it will be fast enough.”

Casil tensed, walking over to stand next to him. ‘Has he found out yet?’

Miraak shifted to reply, but he didn’t a chance to. The sudden snarl of Miraak’s dragon made both of the dragonborn whirl around to face the plane’s Daedric Prince.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Hermaeus Mora hissed, his eye narrowed as tendrils began to extend out towards Casil and Miraak, “ _ I have known about this little… plan… for far too long… I was hoping that perhaps you would… come to your senses on your own… but it appears you have not. _ ”

Dread climbed up the back of Casil’s throat. Had Hermaeus Mora been waiting for her? 

Miraak threw his arm out in front of Casil. “Go,” he demanded lowly.

Casil looked at him like he was crazy, but she didn’t have time to argue. She scrambled for the Black Book, trying to get it out of her satchel. 

“ _ I think…. Not… _ ” Hermaeus Mora snarled. A tentacle shot out of the mass, aiming at Casil to stop her from escaping.

Miraak drew his sword, cutting through it before it could strike her. “Go!” He snapped again. “Sahrotaar,  _ nos _ !  _ Kruziik Rel! Rel Onikiv! _ ” he called, preparing to defend himself.

Sahrotaar snarled, exhaling a stream of ice at Hermaeus Mora before taking to the sky. The Daedric Prince had to briefly turn his attention to the dragon, giving Casil a chance to get the book out. She looked to Miraak for some sort of answer as to what to do, but Miraak gave her no answer. He was busy keeping back the tentacles Mora kept sending at them while his main focus was on Sahrotaar - for the brief few moments it lasted. Mora made short work of the dragon, managing to catch the beast before tearing the poor dragon in half with little effort.

Casil opened the Black Book.

“ _ You will not escape from here _ ,” Mora hissed, his eye turning back to focus on the dragonborns. “ _ You will  _ **_not_ ** _ win! _ ”

Casil reached out to try to grab Miraak. She felt the runes creep around her neck again as her fingers caught on the hem of Miraak’s shirt. Her vision faded, but she could feel Miraak’s  body jerk back with the impact of something and a spray of warmth on her hands, before everything rushed away.

 

Tamriel rushed back in around Casil with more nausea than ever before, but Casil paid it no mind. She could hear the sound of conflict outside between her skeletons and something else. The bosmer struggled to her feet, and as she looked down while pushing herself up she saw what was on her hand.

Blood. Warm, wet blood. 

Casil’s eyes widened, hand shaking as she paused. No. No no no. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t  _ lose  _ him.

Casil didn’t know what she was doing, but she got up and bolted out of the tent.

The skeletons were locked in combat against a pair of lurkers and a few seekers. Where they’d come from, Casil didn’t know, but she didn’t have time to wonder. She waded through them, weaving in and out of the chaos to try to reach the All-Maker stone. Her fingers found the rough stone, immediately feeling the magicka that coursed through it. She closed her eyes and focused, searched.

She didn’t know what she could do. She didn’t know what she was doing. But she didn’t have any other option. 

She focused on the energy in the stone, pressing her forehead against it. She tried to remember Miraak. The feeling of his shirt in her hand. That strange sensation when he was close that made her soul tingle a few times. The sound of his voice. Something,  _ anything _ . She didn’t know what she was reaching into, but she felt the surge of the power and the strange almost strands of it that went here and there.

She felt one stronger than the others. 

Lattice. Chains. Familiarity.

She grabbed it, and she pulled with everything she had. 

And she blacked out.

 

The world rushed around him, making it feel like he was falling infinitely before hitting some sort of hard surface. His soul felt like it was being pulled and stretched at infinitum. And the first thing he managed to do was let out a weak cry of pain.

Hard ground. Pain.  _ Agony.  _ The taste and smell of copper in his mouth, in his nose. He couldn’t breath. Each struggle to inhale made him feel like he was drowning more, and filled his mask with more copper. He could feel the spread of warmth below him and over his chest and stomach, blooming outwards from the middle of his chest.

There was the dim sensation of people around him. Words he couldn’t comprehend behind the blood rushing in his ears and his disorientation. Hands touching him, moving him. More pain. His mask was pulled away, but anything he managed to see while he could keep his eyes open was a blur. Someone, something, touched the source of the pain, and it was enough to make him black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laat dovahkiin mindok rek mindok pruzaan grahmindol - The last dragonborn thinks she knows the best tactic.


	19. XIX - Daal [To Return]

She’d been aware of voices for awhile, but she couldn’t get herself to move or wake up. Everything had been dim, muffled. She felt like she was far away, only vaguely aware of  _ being _ . She ached, but not in a way she’d ever felt before. Her whole body was sore, a even distribution of dull pain that felt… wrong. Everything about her ached, and she was certain that her very existence, something deeper about her, was also hurting.

Casil slowly managed to shift, exhaling in pain. She felt disconnected. Her body didn’t feel like it was hers, or like it was listening to her. The world around her felt like it was far away. Her magicka… It was gone. More than gone, if that could be possible. She knew what it felt like to push herself too far, when she was scraping the bottom of the barrel for any scrap of magicka. There was no barrel anymore. She was looking for a source that simply felt like it didn’t exist to begin with. She focused on her own breathing for a few moments. In, out. In, out. She was alive. She could feel the familiar texture of her bedroll under a hand. Alive, and presumably safe. 

Miraak. 

Casil’s breath hitched, and she forced her eyes open as her body gave a involuntary jerk. Miraak had been hurt, Mora had found out… She struggled to try to get her body to listen to her, trying to push herself up as the bright light of the sun outside the tent disoriented her.

“Shit, Casil-” a voice suddenly said somewhere near her. She heard someone move, saw the shadow of someone move, towards her to try to stop her. “Casil stop. Slow down. You need to rest-”

Casil weakly tried to swat them away, feeling her arm shake as she pushed herself up  before it gave out and she collapsed.

Sterlas caught her, adjusting her so she could sit up on her bedroll. He kept one hand on Casil’s shoulder to keep her down while the other came to cup her face, trying to get her to look ahead. “Casil, stop. Ya ain’t in any position to be movin, alright?”

It took Casil a few minutes to be able to focus on Sterlas’s face properly. Her body kept feeling like it was falling into the ground, and her eyes kept lulling back to the side. She weakly reached up and gripped Sterlas’s arm, trying to ground herself in the world again while she closed her eyes.

Sterlas slowly sat down next to her, moving to squeeze her hand. “Take it easy. Take it easy. Ya really pushed yaself, Casil. Neloth told us not to let you move.”

Casil frowned a bit, the most she could in her current state. Neloth…? Her hands made a rather pathetic movement, and Sterlas just grabbed them and set them back in her lap.

“Yeah. He came up after yesterday. Ya been out for almost a whole day now. Really had us worried,” Sterlas said, brushing some hair out of her face.

Casil cracked her eyes again, squinting up at the redguard. She tried to sign again, managing to at least get the letters M and A down before Sterlas stopped her again.

“He’s… here,” Sterlas said slowly.

Casil’s eyes widened a bit, looking for more information.

“He’s alive, but he ain’t in a good way. The damned cultists won’t let us see ‘em cept from the doorway, but… I’d assume it’s him. He was still kickin’ when I last heard this mornin’, but we ain’t sure if he’s going to… make it.”

He was alive. He was alive. He was on Nirn. Casil closed her eyes again, nodding weakly as she swayed back and forth. But he could die still. This was her fault. Hermaeus Mora had been waiting for her. Her face contorted, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She was too tired, too disoriented, not to. 

Sterlas sighed and pulled her into a hug, gently rocking with her swaying. “Hey, take it easy Casil. Take it easy. Things are gonna be fine, alright?”

Casil could hear someone step into the tent, but linger somewhere towards the front. “It’s amazing that you’re alive at all,” a voice said, more mocking than it was actually surprised sounding. Neloth, no doubt, if Casil recalled the dunmer’s sneering voice correctly. “I must wonder what sort of death wish you have to have put all of your magicka into that rock. If you’d tried any more, i’m certain you would have simply died.”

Casil huffed, reaching up to rub her face slowly. Well, maybe she did. If Miraak had died, she’d have to face Hermaeus Mora. Death honestly sounded like a better option given how furious the Daedric Prince had been. She shivered. Good. She’d made enemies with a Daedric Prince now. Just what she needed on top of all of this. She let herself remain sitting for a moment longer, trying to feel all her limbs again before reaching up to try to pull herself up on Sterlas. 

“Hey, hey, Casil, i’m serious, ya need to rest-” Sterlas began.

Casil shook her head. She needed to go check on that bastard of a man. 

Sterlas sighed. He didn’t need to know what she wanted to do. He scooped her up. “Fine, fine. Ya ain’t gonna stop, I know,” he grunted. Casil leaned against him, at least trying to move as little as possible. 

Neloth moved out of the way as Sterlas made his way towards the tent entry. “Do try to keep your activity to a minimum. It’d be a shame if you keeled over now,” Neloth sighed, making Sterlas roll his eyes.

The outside was a disaster. Bones scattered the temple ground, a bunch of them brushed aside into piles by the cultists. A few still lingered, but Casil could tell her skeletons had largely been destroyed. They were, after all, only armed with pick axes she supposed. Casil glanced up to Sterlas. ‘Jenassa?’ she signed.

“She’s down in Raven Rock. Takin’ care of the pay. We, uh, decided to pay em’ a bit more since… they got attacked,” Sterlas said, looking a bit guilty.

Casil frowned. ‘Same?’ She questioned. There had been Lurkers and Seekers here, so had they been at the other stones.

Sterlas nodded. “Yeah. Sounds like they showed up all over the island. There were a few fatalities, but… nothin’ we can’t pay for, especially since this wrapped up faster than we had planned for.”

Casil nodded. Slowly, the two descended down into the temple. The remaining cultists scurried around wearily, watching as Sterlas carried Casil in. Almost immediately Casil could smell  _ blood.  _ She tensed, her stomach curling. Lots of blood. A handful of the cultists had blood on their robes, and a few had foregon their masks. They looked haggard, eyeing Casil tiredly. As Sterlas and Casil reached one of the middle floors, a cultist passed by carrying a basket of bloody bandaging and cloth. Casil swallowed hard. Things weren’t good. The blood was still red, fresh on many of the bandages and cloth. He still wasn’t doing well.

A pair of cultists stood guard outside of Miraak’s room. The doorway remained open, no door ever set up to replace whatever one had rotted of its hinges hundreds of years ago, but right now it was probably for the best. A few more cultists lingered nearby, working on brewing more potions or preparing more bandaging and whatnot.

Sterlas moved and sat down against the wall across from the doorway, setting Casil down in his lap. She shifted to try to get up, but Sterlas stopped her.

“They don’t want us botherin’ him,” Sterlas said lowly to her, making sure she remained where she was.

Casil threw a look to the cultists.

“Lord Miraak… is not well. He cannot be disturbed,” one of them replied, keeping their own voice low. “You may speak to him when he permits it.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t argue. She wasn’t supposed to be up and moving herself, and if bothering him could risk his recovery… she’d wait. Her gaze shifted to the room behind the doorway. 

A screen had been set up between the far wall and the bed Miraak must have been on, but she could still faintly see his silhouette thanks to the fireplace on the far side of the room. While she couldn’t see many details of the other dragonborn, she could make out a tangle of wavy hair, and the labored, pained rise and fall of his chest. She could hear a wheeze each time he took a breath.

Casil hugged her knees up to herself. Part of her felt worse seeing him in the state he was,  but something else in her felt relieved to see him  _ here.  _ Here, on Nirn, and alive… for now. She wanted to ask how he was doing, what had happened, what they’d done to try to help him, but she knew it wasn’t going to help her calm down. She rubbed her face slowly. Once again, she just had to wait.

 

Casil had managed to get situated in the hall outside of Miraak’s room, out of the way enough that she didn’t interfere with the cultist’s work, but close enough to keep up to date with what was going on. It gave her a chance to rest herself while being near.

She didn’t get a chance to doze off again when she felt a familiar pull in her gut. At first, she had a difficult time placing what it was, but soon as the sensation grew she recognized it - the feeling of a dying dragon, the feeling of a dragon’s soul seconds from being absorbed.

Casil couldn’t hold back the contents of her stomach. The cultists swarmed Miraak’s room, and between feeling sick she could hear a few weak cries of pain from the room while people came and went with baskets of dirty cloth, potions, and medical equipment. Sterlas held her the whole time, not knowing any other way to comfort her. He wasn’t sure himself if Miraak was going to survive, and the least he could do was give Casil someone to lean on and to try to make sure she didn’t puke onto her bedroll or herself.

 

The sensation got worse a few times, but never did it reach its peak. Casil passed out after the first time, and became a sort of beacon for the cultists to come check in on their patron each time she re-awoke to dry-heave at the sensation of Miraak teetering on death’s door. 

By the second day, things had improved, but only slightly. Casil was relieved that the feeling of his soul finally started to ebb back, though she came to realize the sensation of it was never really… gone. She spent most of the day asleep, still recovering from the day before. Jenassa and Sterlas kept an eye on her, tending to what she needed while keeping out of the way of the cultists as well. The two parties were patient enough with each other for things to work - and if nothing else, both were in agreement that the Skaal that shown up outside of the temple could stay outside. Frea had been demanding to see Casil, but nobody - cultist or Casil’s party alike - would let them inside. They could wait until the dragonborn had recovered.

 

Things slowed down. Fewer cultists constantly swarmed around Miraak’s room once he’d stabilized, and only one guard remained next to the door even though Casil was usually the only one around.

Two days had passed when she first got to hear him speak again.

Casil wasn’t sure what had drawn her awake, but a stirring in her chest had brought her out of a fitful rest.

The temple was quiet. Almost everyone else was asleep - she didn’t need to see the sky to know it was late at night. Even the guard in front of the door seemed to be fighting to stay awake, having ditched their chair to stand up so they wouldn’t be tempted to doze off. Casil cracked one eye, letting it adjust to the darkness. She could see the illuminated silhouette of the guard at the door from the fire in the room beyond him, and the orange glow cast out of the room. She lay there, one ear twitching while she strained to hear if there was something that had woken her up.

A painful cough from Miraak’s room caught her attention, and exhaustedly Casil pushed herself up a bit in worry. She paused, waiting to see if she needed to get help, or if the guard thought they needed to do something. Miraak let out a weak, harsh groan, before Casil heard him force a feeble chuckle.

“Dragonborn…” he muttered, only just clear enough for Casil to understand.

The guard looked back in surprise. “Do you wish to see them, milord?” The cultist asked, keeping their own voice low.

Miraak grunted, before coughing again. “I know she is there.”

Casil pursed her lips, before taking a deep breath and shakily pushing herself up from her bedroll. She shuffled over, pausing at the doorway next to the cultist. Casil could see Miraak’s silhouette shift, turning no doubt to look in her direction.

“Perhaps I was wrong to have doubted you,” he muttered lowly. He shifted again, slowly, until Casil could see him shakily raise a hand to look at it. “...I did… not think I would make it here again. Perhaps you are not as weak as I initially thought.”

Casil grimaced, but remained quiet. She slowly sat down in the doorway, reaching to pick at a loose thread in the hem of her nightwear. 

Miraak fell quiet again, but Casil could tell he was still awake. The sheets rustled again, followed by a low groan of pain, before the man settled again. “We will… we will speak again when I have recovered. I sense you need rest yourself,” he said tiredly.

Casil snorted softly. The guard looked to her, but she waited a few more moments in the doorway to make sure Miraak had nothing more to say. And he didn’t - a few minutes after he last spoke, Casil’s sharp ears could hear his breathing shift into the low, steady drone of sleep. Finally, she picked herself back up and slinked back into her own bed, curling up under the furs and flap of the bedroll to try to return to sleep herself. She hated to admit it, but hearing him speak had been a relief. He had recovered enough to speak and move a bit on his own, which was a incredible improvement from where he’d been even just the day before. Casil closed her eyes, pulling a wolf pelt over her head to try to get more comfortable. Hopefully he’d be recovered enough soon that they could  _ leave.  _ As long as he was in fit enough condition to get on a boat and travel, Casil considered it good enough. They needed to get off of Solstheim before the Skaal got aggressive. They could finish recovering at her home in Skyrim, though she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with all of Miraak’s cultists. At this point, she shoved the thought out of her mind and decided that it would be a problem for Miraak to deal with. All she needed was for him to be alive, and for them to get off the island, and for him to be willing to face Alduin. The rest was not hers to deal with. And frankly, none of it was something she should be pondering about now anyways.

Casil snuggled into the warmth of the pelts, before slowly she drifted back into sleep.

 

The noises outside his room sounded so…  _ foreign.  _ The shuffle of feet above and below on stone. The clank of pots and pans echoing down the hall. The dull crackle and pop of the fire. The muttering of voices,  _ real voices _ , that were only muffled by masks or the distance of his temple halls. The smell of the fire, of the damp earth, cooked bread, ash, metals. The texture of the sheets, of furs, the bandages around his chest, grain on the bedposts, weaving of the screen that blocked people from immediately seeing him.

Foreign. Almost… new again. 

And it had almost all been taken from him. He had put his trust in the Last Dragonborn, no matter how pitiful she seemed. Things had started to go better - he wouldn’t deny that. And then she had to come to talk to him. And then Hermaeus Mora had to be waiting.

Fingers curled into the sheets near his chest, near where a thick pile of bandages and gauze remained strapped over his wound, nursing the gaping hole left in his chest by his master.

_ Former  _ master. He was  _ free _ now. He was back on Nirn, in Tamriel, inside of his own temple, and even Hermaeus Mora’s attempt to kill him and stop him had failed.

His temple.

How much time had passed. He had not seen anything outside of his room, which wasn’t even  _ his  _ room, but what he could see was… not what he’d remembered. The once beautiful carvings on the walls had cracked, eroded, and lost their details. Parts of the ceiling were cracked and certainly weren’t structurally sound anymore. The banners, carpets and furniture that once decorated rooms like this were all gone save a few water-damaged stone bases, one of which had been turned on its side as a bench when it used to be the side of a table. Most of what was in the room was… not familiar. 

Things had changed. The exact extent of  how long he’d been trapped in Apocrypha was truly starting to sink in. The dialect the people around him spoke, their  _ race _ even, the architecture, magic, food - none of it was familiar anymore. Even the inside of his temple, his home, made him feel like a stranger.

He let out a painful exhale.

There was much to adjust to.

 

“Dragonborn.”

Casil was surprised to hear the man’s voice. She looked up from her journal, where she’d been jotting down her thoughts and notes about recent events. 

Miraak slowly made his way into what the cultists had turned into a makeshift kitchen, leaning rather heavily on a staff as two cultists followed behind him. His mask and robes had been cleaned and returned to him, and Casil somehow wasn’t surprised that he had them on again. Even with the mask to hide his expression, she could tell he was hurting, and no matter how hard he was trying to keep his back straight and walk steadily the exhaustion was apparent. Casil nodded her head to him as he moved to sit across from her slowly, taking his time to make sure he didn’t disturb the wound still healing in his stomach. The two cultists loitered around by the door, giving the two dragonborn space. Casil looked the man over, before lifting her chin as she waited for him to speak. The slits of his mask stared at her impassively.

“So. You told the Skaal that you would remove me from this island for good. Along with my… followers,” he said slowly.

Casil sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Good. This was the first serious conversation they were going to have. She opened her eyes again and gave Miraak a flat look, nodding her head. ‘Wouldn’t help otherwise.’

“And you expect me to do this?” Miraak asked. Casil couldn’t tell if his tone was  _ angry  _ or  _ amused,  _ but it wasn’t… good.

Casil shrugged. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I told them what I needed to in order for them to agree. That being said,’ she glanced up at the ceiling, ‘I don’t think they’ll let us leave the island without trouble if you don’t agree. I assumed you would play along until after Alduin was slain, and then if you decided to come back here and do whatever it was you’d planned to do when you got back, it wouldn’t be my problem.’ She set her hands down on the table, trying to keep herself as calm faced as she could.

Miraak chuckled lowly, straining not to hurt his gut. “So be it. If you do not expect me to  _ truly  _ comply, then I will agree to leave…  _ peacefully. _ ”

‘They wanted your cultists gone as well, and I’m going to guess whatever is left here is going to be destroyed. So i’d take it all with you if you can,’ Casil said, glancing around the room. Not like there was honestly much here. Most of it seemed to have been brought with the cultists at the end of the day, and was likely things that could easily be replaced.

“As long as there are boats, I suppose that can be arranged,” Miraak mused, reaching a hand up slowly to rub under his throat. “Where is it that Alduin resides now? Did you have some sort of plan beyond this?” 

Shit. Casil’s lip twitched. ‘I don’t know. When I left Skyrim, I’d lost track of him. I don’t know where he resides, but I might be able to find out. Honestly, no. I didn’t have a plan past this. I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to make it this far.’

“As I thought,” Miraak said with a sigh, making Casil frown. “ _ Hi mey fahliil… _ ” He shook his head, before looking Casil over. “I hope that you at least considered where I am to take my followers.”

Casil shrugged. ‘I have a house, but it’s not going to home this many people. Nor will I let them squat on my land. There’s plenty of ruins like this one though,’ she signed nonchalauntly. 

The leather of Miraak’s glove squeaked as he curled his fingers in on themselves, catching Casil’s attention. “You would be wise to remember that these  _ ruins _ were once my home,” Miraak said lowly, his tone surprisingly calm despite the obvious edge of warning. 

Casil pursed her lips. ‘What happens with your followers is not my business. My business with you was getting you out of Apocrypha alive, and teaching you Dragonrend when we face Alduin. Everything else is not my concern.’

Miraak tilted his head back a bit, letting out a low hum. “You are lucky I cannot strip those words from you, for they are the only thing keeping you alive at this moment.”

‘And you’re lucky I decided to risk my own life to save yours,’ Casil signed back firmly, holding his gaze - or at least, she assumed she was. ‘Maybe I should have taken up Hermaeus Mora on his offer and let you die in Apocrypha instead of letting you out.’

“But you didn’t, did you?” Miraak shot back rather swiftly. He leaned towards Casil, shoulders rising a bit. “You have saved me, and set me free. And now, the only thing that stands between you and my blade is the words of Dragonrend. If you intend to see the day after Alduin’s demise, I suggest you find something more to fill that space.”

Casil swallowed as he pulled back, returning to a more regular sitting posture. Maybe she  _ should  _ have killed him. She took a deep breath. ‘Fine. For now, let’s just get out of here. Neither of us need to see a fight right now with the Skaal, so if you’re up and walking fine now, we should leave as soon as possible. You can send your cultists or whatever off somewhere else, and we can figure out where Alduin is. After that, you and I can go our own ways. I didn’t want to be a dragonborn, and I didn’t want to have to kill Alduin, so trust me when I say that I have no interest in doing anything once this is all done. I won’t stop you with whatever you want to do. I just want this to be done so I can go back to living my life.’

Miraak paused. “I’m afraid it is not that easy, dragonborn. You do not simply return to how things once were when you understand your true nature.” He moved to slowly push himself up again. “Go and deal with the Skaal, as they are your…  _ friends.  _ I will gather my followers and prepare to leave. I wish to leave by tomorrow eve.”

Casil made no response, watching as the old dragonborn grabbed his staff and turned back towards the door. The two cultists waited for him to pass before following behind. One cultist’s gaze lingered on Casil for a moment longer, but soon they had left as well. Casil looked down to her journal, flipping a page.

Maybe this was all a mistake.

 

Frea and Storn were flanked by well-armed Skaal warriors, and it was clear that if they did not get their answer, or the answer they wanted, they would have no qualms using their weapons.

Casil lifted her chin as she walked to meet the Skaal’s ambassadors, ignoring Frea’s furious glare and Storn’s look of disappointment. She stopped a few meters from the other party, Sterlas and Jenassa directly behind her as her own guards and translators. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, washing the temple with red-orange light tinged by the ash and smoke that hung thick in the air. Neloth watched from the comfort of one of the pillars that surrounded the edges of the temple, clearly curious about how this would resolve. He’d come and gone since Miraak had been pulled from Apocrypha, and while Casil wasn’t sure if she trusted him he’d been one of the only ones keeping them updated with what the Skaal were up to.

“Why have you not left? You promised that you would leave with Miraak and his ilk when your plan was complete. Almost a week has passed, and still you linger,” Frea snapped, angrily motioning to the handful of cultists who lurked near the temple entry in case the Skaal decided to attack.

‘We were recovering,’ Casil replied truthfully, allowing Sterlas to translate. 

Frea shook her head. “That was not a part of the deal. You were to leave  _ immediately.  _ Whatever recovery was needed could be done on another land.”

Storn shifted, his gloved hand tightening on a spear decorated with bones. “Miraak has changed the land forever, and the corruption that you have also brought to the All-Maker Stones…”

‘This wasn’t my plan,’ Casil signed, narrowing her eyes. ‘And if I did not do this, Alduin would win. It was this, or making a deal with Hermaeus Mora.’

Storn sighed. “I did not think I would have to say such a thing, but perhaps making a deal with old Herma-Mora may have been more preferable to… this. The changes that have been made to save Miraak will never heal, and those who live on this island will feel that change forever. Perhaps it would have been better to have carried that burden yourself, instead of inflicting it on generations of others.”

The corner of Casil’s mouth twitched. She felt her throat constrict, but she swallowed back her anger. ‘Miraak and I will leave tomorrow. By this time tomorrow, this place will be empty, and that will be the last you see of us,’ Casil signed, trying to keep her hands steady. She didn’t take her eyes off of Frea and Storn, gaze intense. 

The two Skaal glanced at each other, before nodding. Frea looked back to the bosmer, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “And if you are, we will wait no longer,” Frea warned simply, before turning away. 

Storn nodded his head in agreement with his daughter’s words before following as well. As he reached the lip of the temple, he paused and turned to look back at Casil. “Be weary, dragonborn. We do not know him as the ‘traitor’ without reason,” he said tiredly, before and the whole band of Skaal warriors were making their descent down the other side of the mountain. Casil had to resist throwing them a vulgar hand gesture once they had their backs turned.

“Sheesh. Some friendly group they are,” Sterlas muttered, folding his own arms across his chest as he glared after the Skaal.

“Well, let us hope that we will not have to speak to them again,” Jenassa said, shaking her head. “The sooner we’ve left, the happier i’ll be. We’ve spent far too much time on this island as it is.”

Casil nodded in agreement, finally tearing her eyes away from where the last Skaal had slipped over the horizon as Neloth approached them. 

“Leaving already? Shame,” he sighed, surveying the group. “I was rather hoping to see where Miraak had planned to go with all of this after he returned.” He stopped next to the group, glancing down at Casil. “Though I can’t imagine a megalomaniac like that will  _ actually  _ stay away.”

Casil rolled her eyes, shaking her head. ‘He might come back, and then he can be your problem.’

Neloth laughed once Sterlas had translated. “Oh, I imagine that will be quite  _ interesting.  _ It’s a shame I won’t get a chance to observe him more before the two of you go off to whatever sort of god-slaying it is you plan to do.”

Casil grimaced. ‘I wish I could be that enthusiastic about all of this,’ Casil signed bitterly. 

“Well, I find it a waste that you aren’t. Everyone talks about how you’re the ‘Last Dragonborn’ and you can’t even  _ try  _ to pretend like you’re interested in it,” Neloth scoffed, looking down at Casil in mild disgust.

She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. ‘If I could give it to anyone else, I would,’ she signed, before turning to head back towards the temple’s entry.

“Maybe Miraak will give you a reason to appreciate it,” Neloth mused, before turning himself. 

Casil bit her tongue at that as she descended down the staircase. She doubted that.

 

Miraak waited down at the ends of the dock, keeping himself fairly far from anyone that wasn’t one of his cultists. Even with the knowledge that he was hiding his wounds, he managed to keep an air of nobility around him, and Casil couldn’t help but hate him for that. He even managed to find a way to make leaning on his staff for support look like it was done with a more prideful and powerful purpose than to help him while he was weak.

Casil narrowed her eyes at him, sitting on a rope that bridged between two of the posts on the docks. Most of the things needed from the temple had been moved down to Raven Rock, but it was obvious that the single ship that ran to Skyrim would need to take more than one trip to get it and all of the cultists to the mainland. An agreement had been worked out with the house in power to protect the cultists from the Skaal while they awaited the return of the ship or other ships. They were following through with their agreement, but the Northern Maiden could only carry so many people. 

Casil couldn’t wait to get off of the divines forsaken island. Some flurries of ash were lazily drifting down from the distant volcano, making Casil sneeze every so often. She would be happy to never have to set foot there again, and if nothing else the Skaal could be  _ certain  _ she’d never return. If she even lived to have a chance to do so anyways. Casil watched as Miraak commanded a few of his cultists to move a chest of objects onto the ship, his voice booming over the warf. 

Miraak had already made it clear that she was a goner after Alduin was dead. Like she’d expected, the words of Dragonrend were the only thing that were going to keep her alive. She’d have to find a way to show him that she really didn’t want anything to do with… anything, really. If she didn’t have to be out here doing this, she wouldn’t be. If he wanted to go conquer Solstheim or whatever, she wasn’t going to stop him. She could care less. She just wanted to be done with this bullshit ‘world saving’ business.

“You ready to get seasick again?” 

Sterla’s voice snapped Casil out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him as he approached, making a face before shaking her head. Honestly, she hadn’t even thought about the actual boatride home. She’d been too preoccupied with the assortment of problems immediately around her. ‘You’re going to get sick too,’ she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

Sterlas snorted, flashing his discolored teeth in a smile. “You know who else is probably going to get sick?” he said, lowering his voice as he came to lean over by Casil. Casil followed his gaze to the tall man at the end of the dock.

‘I hope he pukes into his mask,’ Casil signed, smirking as the two watched Miraak.

“Can’t keep it on then,” Sterlas sneered, crouching down next to her. “Did he always wear it in Apocrypha?”

Casil nodded. ‘Haven’t seen him without it. Maybe that’s why that screen was up at the temple.’

“Man, if i’d known he always wore it i’d have taken it down for ya,” Sterlas huffed, resting his arms on his knees. “I have a feelin’ we’ll see it soon anyways. Ain’t no way he can keep it on for the whole boat trip without us seein’. Ain’t no way he ain’t gonna get sick.”

Jenassa stroad over to the two, raising an eyebrow at them. “Are you two ready to go?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Or am I interrupting something?”

Sterlas dug into the coin pouch on his belt, before slapping a few gold coins down on his thigh. “Ten gold says he pukes in his mask.”

Casil pouted. ‘I made that prediction,’ she signed before digging into her own gold pouch with a huff. ‘My gold then on puking in the hull.’

Jenassa rolled her eyes. “Oh please,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“What, ya ain’t gonna bet?” Sterlas asked, laughing as he looked up at the dunmer. “C’mon, Jenassa.”

She sighed, looking over at Miraak, the cultists, and the boat. After a moment, she reluctantly patted her coin pouch. “Fine. Over the railing,” she said, before shaking her head and continuing down the dock. “Let’s get going. I think everyone else is ready.”

Casil pushed herself off of the rope, grinning as she tucked her coin back into its place before she followed after Jenassa. Sterlas did the same, catching up to give Jenassa a firm pat on the back that almost knocked her over. “See? That’s more like it.”

Casil gave one more glance back at the town of Raven Rock, and as she did so she caught Neloth pushing his way through the crowd towards her. She stopped, turning to face him with a curious tilt of her head.

“And here I thought I might have missed you,” he said. He glanced at the ship, before looking back down at Casil. “Don’t get in over your head. Someone who has studied in old Hermaeus Mora’s realm for 4000 years isn’t someone to underestimate, and neither is the Gardener of Men himself. I suggest you watch your back,” he said, folding his arms.

Casil blinked in a bit of surprise, before nodding her head. She pulled her journal out of her satchel, writing him a quick thank-you for his advice. Neloth simply snorted.

“It would be a shame for someone like you to meet such a boring end. Do try to make it back,” he said with a bit of a grin, before waving his hand. “Now hurry along, before they leave without you. Becoming a pin cushion for the Skaal’s arrows would be a even more boring death.”

Casil managed a smile, nodding at him before she turned and hurried after Jenassa and Sterlas. She couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous though at his words. Even after they were pulling out into the bay, Neloth watched from the docks. 

He was right.

Mora was still out there.

 

Casil was rather bummed when Jenassa won the bet, but the fact that any of them had won at all pleased her. For once, it wasn’t just her and Sterlas that were sea sick, but instead a majority of the people on the boat. Miraak was no exception, though he was doing a very good job at hiding it. Only by chance had she noticed him throwing up over the edge, and she’d been tempted not to tell anyone in hopes of winning the bet herself. She hadn’t however, gotten a look at his face under his mask, which remained a bit of a disappointment. 

By the time evening had fallen, Miraak had moved to the hull of the ship and settled down there alone, keeping most people out besides a handful of cultists. Few of them had any reason to travel down there anyways - they usually slept up top to begin with, and since the hull of the boat was so full of things brought from the temple there wasn’t much room down there. It was claustrophobic and somewhat muggy, and Casil was much happier above deck where she could freely vomit over the railings. That said, everything she wanted to keep dry was kept below deck, and when she wanted some time to think and write the hull was where she had to go.

She’d put her bag down against a few boxes at the foot of the stairs, somewhere she hoped would be clear of wherever Miraak might get pissy about. He’d moved a few boxes and crates around to form some sort of alcove around the back, and if anything she was hoping he wouldn’t even notice that she was up at the front with a lamp and her journal. She would leave him to… whatever he was doing back there, if he just left her to her own work. 

Finally feeling a bit less nauseous, Casil slowly made her way down the stairs, bracing herself against the gentle rocking of the waves against the rails until she was finally in the hull. Her bag lay where she’d left it, leaning up against one of the larger boxes at the front of the hull. She could see the faint glow of another lamp between the boxes at the other end, presumably where Miraak was. Casil quietly moved to hang her own lamp up on a hook, but before she could settle herself down she could hear noise from Miraak’s end. The bosmer paused, ears twitching. The boat creaked lowly, the only noise for a few moments, before the sound of retching met her ears again. Casil grimaced. Well, looks like she’d had won if she’d kept to herself that she’d seen him throw up over the railings before. She could hear him lurch again, and this time it was followed by a low groan of pain. Casil arched a brow, before sliding behind the boxes towards Miraak’s little alcove. She tried to peer through the cracks between the boxes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man on the other side without him noticing. When she could finally make out his shape, she pouted. His back was up against the boxes, and even with the lamplight she couldn’t quite make out anything interesting. She could see the glint of the mask and that it was tilted up a bit, and where he was hunched over with a bucket in his hands, but she couldn’t see his face. Casil dug her fingers into the edge of one of the crates. What sort of good, snide jab could she make at him over this? She squinted, thinking for a good jeer before he threw up again. Casil went to turn away, but she caught the unmistakable color of blood in the vomit. Casil’s eyes widened, and quickly she moved around the corner to help him.

Miraak flinched as Casil suddenly came around the corner, almost falling over to the side instinctively. He pushed the bucket aside, reaching up to pull his mask back down as he tried to back into the other corner. “ _ Stay back _ ,” he hissed lowly, one hand gripping his loose mask while the other reached out to steady himself against a crate. His body was tense, but it was obvious he was not doing well.

Casil raised her hands, stopping at the entry to his alcove. ‘You’re throwing up blood,’ she signed quickly, taking a cautious step towards him like she was approaching a wounded animal.

“You think I have not noticed?” He spat, digging his gloved fingers into the wood.

Casil kept her hands up, trying to edge closer towards him. ‘I just want to help-’ She began.

Miraak tried to push himself to his feet, legs shaking. “I do not need your help, dragonborn. There isn’t anything you can possibly do that I cannot do myself,” he snarled, stumbling as the boat rocked. He caught himself on one of the crates, leaning on it heavily as he tried to get his footing again. 

Casil grimaced, watching him struggle. ‘You almost  _ died _ earlier this week. You don’t need to act invincible in front of me. Just let me help you-’ she tried again, trying to edge closer again.

Miraak shifted with the boat, staggering with the tilt. “I didn’t  _ need  _ your help,” he growled lowly. “You were only convenient to me. Do not act like we are on close terms together.”

Casil scowled, scooting closer. He pulled away, using the wall to help prop himself up. ‘You’re hurt. You need help-’

“I do  _ not  _ need help, let alone  _ yours _ ,” he snapped again. “If it had not been for you, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

Casil stopped, looking at him with surprise. Her face contorted in rage. ‘If it hadn’t been for me, you’d-’

“Have gotten out of Apocryha on my own, without your meddling,” he hissed. He managed a low chuckle at Casil’s expression. “You… you do not understand what you have done, have you? You stupid, worthless elf…” he said with a slight shake of his head.

Casil’s teeth flashed. ‘I should have left you to Hermaeus Mora,’ she signed angrily.

“And then this world would have come to an end, all because you cannot handle this on your own without my help,” he sneered.

‘I would have found another way. I could have taken Hermaeus’s offer.’

“Do not bother lying to me,” he snapped, staggering into the opposite corner as the ship tilted. Casil flinched, remaining in the opposite corner. The lamplight shifted back and forth between the two, illuminating them with ominous shadows. Miraak’s mask, and Casil’s look of hurt. “There  _ is  _ no other way. And you have made this choice.  _ This  _ is your fate now, as it is mine. Now, leave. You are of no use to me,” Miraak said.

‘If I hadn’t saved you, you would be dead. Mora would have just killed you. Nobody would have been there to save you at the last second,’ Casil signed defiantly.

“If it had not been for you, I would have made it back to this world in one piece. If you had not shown up and given him a reason to attack both of us, we would not be in this position.”

‘You did make it back in one piece. The injury will-’

Miraak shook his head, chuckling bitterly. “And you think you can help me now?” He asked, cutting her off. Casil’s hands recoiled to her chest, furrowing his brow. He shook his head. “You are  _ nothing.  _ I never  _ needed  _ you, dragonborn. My plan would have come to fruition without you. You could not have stopped me if you had tried. You sped it up, yes, and you nearly got us both killed. You cannot do  _ anything  _ on your own.”

‘That’s a lie-’

“Is it?” he hissed. “Then why did you come to find me? Why do you surround yourself with servants and conjurations? Would you have been able to free me without my guidance? Who was it that kept me from dying when  _ you  _ almost got yourself killed?” The dark slits of Miraak’s mask stared Casil down harshly, making her take a step back against the crates. “Admit it,  _ dragonborn.  _ You are hardly worthy of the title. Whether or not you desire it, it is what you are - though, perhaps, I am wrong. You are far too weak, pathetic, and-”

Casil expected herself to back off, but instead her rage came out in the form of a punch. And, to her surprise, it made contact. With the tilt of the boat, Casil closed the small gap between them, and her fist came colliding with the cool metal of the mask. Miraak stumbled to the side, and immediately Casil regretted her choice of  _ fight  _ instead of  _ flight. _

Miraak immediately retaliated. He pushed off of the crates and nailed her with his shoulder, sending the much smaller woman to the ground. Casil winced, sliding back on the wood floor, but before Miraak could catch his balance again Casil swung her leg out to knock Miraak’s from under him. With the help of his seasickness and the rocking of the boat, Miraak’s legs gave out under him, and he almost stumbled into the bucket of vomit. He pushed it aside once he propped himself up before pushing himself swiftly to his feet, only a few moments after Casil had done the same. In the fraction of a second more it took Miraak to stand, Casil pushed herself into his stomach, bashing her head into the wound in his stomach. Miraak grunted in pain, but he managed to shove Casil off as she raised a hand to try to slug him again. She hit the floor again, and Miraak quickly used the chance to kick her roughly in the side with his metal boot. Casil curled in as his boot made contact with her ribs, making her grimace in pain. Even sick and weak, he was  _ strong. _

“You foolish woman…” Miraak hissed, trying to kick her again. Casil managed to grab his leg this time, trying to use her weight to pull him off balance. When it didn’t work, Casil immediately changed her tactics - by smashing her forehead into his knee. Miraak let out a low snarl of pain as he toppled over again, crushing Casil in the process. Casil dug her nails into his leg, turning to try to punch him in the side. Miraak reached out and managed to grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her sharply away before trying to get a better hold on her. Casil let out her own furious his, kicking him hard in the shin so she could wiggle free and try another assault of blows. She knew she wasn’t going to win the fight, but at this stage she was going to try to do as much as she could to teach him a lesson. 

“Hey, hey,  _ hey! _ Knock it off!”

Casil couldn’t look up from where she had her teeth sunk into Miraak’s clothed side, but she knew it was Sterlas. She could hear the shuffle of people hurrying down the stairs, no doubt drawn by the sound of the brawl, but she didn’t let up.

“Enough! Knock it off you two!” Sterlas snapped, managing to make it back to where the two dragonborn had managed to roll to.

Casil managed to get free of Miraak’s grip as Sterlas made it over, taking the chance to drop her elbow into Miraak’s face. He snarled in pain again, feeling the metal of his mask be sent full force into his face. Casil ignored the pain of the metal splitting her elbow open, wrestling herself on top of the much larger dragonborn so she could grab ahold of the sides of the mask. She kneed him roughly in the stomach as she pulled back, breaking one of the straps before she managed to pull the mask free of his face. Immediately, she raised it and brought it across his face with a dull, metallic thud. Sterlas managed to get his arms under Casil’s before she could hit him again, and Jenassa had grabbed the wrist with the mask so she couldn’t bring it back down. Sterlas pulled Casil off, throwing her down to the ground behind him before getting between him and Miraak as the other man got up and made to lunge at the young woman.

“Stop it! Fuck, divines almighty, I will make both of ya take a dip in the damn ocean if ya don’t cool it,” Sterlas boomed, putting his hands out on either side of him to keep the two dragonborn from going at each other’s throats again. He glanced back at Casil, where she was slowly sitting up behind him, before looking to Miraak. He felt heart drop into his gut.

Black. Solid, inky black. Miraak glowered at Sterlas, his black eyes narrowed into thin slits as blood ran down from his nose, lip, and the gashes in his forehead. His teeth were pulled back into a feral snarl, sharpened fangs flashing in the swaying lamplight. A nasty burn crept up over most of the lower left side of his face, and many more scars criss-crossed his features and broke up the shape of his short-cut beard. Not quite nord, Sterlas realized. His skin was pale, and his strong facial features reminded him of nords, but there was something much more  _ primal  _ about them. Wavy black hair peppered with streaks of white and grey had come undone from a series of braids and a tie that held it all behind his face in his hood, and his furious snarl only brought out the lines of age on his face. His nose was already twisted, implying that this by far wasn’t the first time it’d been broken. 

_ “Incipient madness. Loss of self-awareness. Black spots in the whites of eyes. Any of the documented indications of Hermaeus Mora’s permanent influence...” _

Neloth’s words echoed in Casil’s head as she stared in horror from around Sterlas. He had mentioned the effects of the Black Books to her while she’d been recovering and Miraak had still largely been unresponsive, but she hadn’t thought she’d see the symptoms first person - especially not in this degree.

He spat out a mouthful of blood, wiping some of the blood off of his face with his sleeve as he backed up to lean against a box. His lip twitched, staining his teeth with some of the blood. “ _ You ignorant, stupid girl… _ ” he growled lowly, his tongue darting out over his lower lip to lap up blood from where one of his sharp teeth had cut his lip.

“Enough,” Sterlas warned again, bracing himself to stare down the older  _ atmoran.  _

Miraak’s gaze snapped to Sterlas, though it was difficult to tell. He straightened himself out, reminding Sterlas that Miraak managed to still have four inches of height on  _ him.  _ He carefully stroad towards Casil, brushing Sterlas aside rather calmly. Miraak extended a hand to Casil, staring down at her with oily black eyes. “My mask. Hand it  back,” he ordered, stopping just within arm’s reach of Casil.

Casil narrowed her eyes at him, before looking down at the mask under her badly bruised hand. She coyly looked back at him, before bolting to try to hurl it into the bucket of vomit. Jenassa managed to reach out and snatch it out of her grasp, pulling it away before swiftly returning it to Miraak. She gave both of them their own warning glare, moving between Casil and Miraak before either of them could start anything again.

Miraak yanked it out of Jenassa’s hand, flashing his teeth at Casil before slowly moving back behind the boxes. “Leave,” he said lowly, his tone dangerous despite its sudden calmness.

Sterlas turned and picked Casil up, not even going to give her a chance to cause any more trouble. “With pleasure,” Sterlas growled back, tucking the bosmer under one arm light a disobedient child before he pushed threw a few of the cultists and hurried up the stairs. Jenassa followed after, not daring to look back.

The cultists who had come down nervously looked at each other, before moving to assist their leader. All of them were immediately ordered back up onto deck only a second after the other three had.

 

“Casil. Why did ya pick a fight with him?” Sterlas asked with a heavy sigh, rubbing his face as Jenassa worked on stitching a gash on Casil’s brow. 

Casil went to make a face, but Jenassa shook her head. “Keep still. If you tense your muscles, it will make this harder for me. Do you want me to have to re-do these?” She chided.

Casil managed to hold off her mopy face. ‘He was being a prick,’ Casil signed defensively, resisting pulling away from Jenassa’s work.

“Shocker,” Sterlas said, pretending to look baffled. “Ya even said you weren’t lookin’ forward to workin’ with him. But that ain’t a reason to go pickin’ fights with him. He ain’t gonna work with ya if you’re nippin’ at his heels, Casil. Ya gonna be diggin’ ya own grave at this rate if you keep that up,” he said, leaning against the reailing of the ship.

Casil stuck out her tongue, trying her best to do it without making Jenassa glare at her for moving her face.

Jenassa sighed, tying the knot off on the thread. “Ignore him, sera. You can’t let him get to you. You’re better than that. You just have to work with him until this is all over,” she said, moving to pick up a swab of alcohol to dab at the stitches. 

Casil winced at the sting, finally wrinkling her face in displeasure. She scooted back on the box she sat on, letting Jenassa get out more thread to work on another gash. No, picking a fight with him had been a pretty awful idea. And she was feeling it. But she knew she’d at least broken his nose, and she hoped that he would remember that one. Casil huffed, slouching.

Working with this man was going to be hell.


	20. XX - Amativ [Onwards]

Miraak sent his cultists a different direction when they unloaded from the docks in Windhelm. He gave Casil no details, other than that they were heading somewhere west. That was fine. Casil wasn’t sure if she  _ cared  _ where they ended up at the end of the day, so as long as Miraak continued to work with her until Alduin was dead.

The tension between the two dragonborn didn’t die down, even days after their spat on the boat while they traveled back towards Falkreath. And again, that was fine for Casil. Their minimal interaction already left a bitter taste in her mouth - he was always condescending and short with her, and the less she had to deal with it the better. The two road as far apart as they could as they traveled towards Casil’s home, only keeping the distance required to remain relatively  _ safe  _ in case Alduin or another dragon found them and attacked. While Miraak was irritatingly confident about his ability to bring down a dragon on his own, even if it was Alduin, he still compiled an remained within visual distance of Casil, Jenassa and Sterlas - even if it was far, far behind them. 

The silence between the two dragonborns was fine for the other two as well. The less babysitting they had to do, the happier they were. Casil and Miraak always seemed to find a way to get on each other’s nerves in the short conversations they exchanged with each other, and twice since the fight in the hull had Sterlas had to step between them to prevent it from happening again. Jenassa was beginning to seriously wonder if Casil  _ should  _ have taken Mora’s offer, if just to avoid the non-stop conflict. Her and Miraak seemed to be oil and water, and already there was no end to their bickering - not that it was always Miraak’s fault. Casil had started more than her fair share of arguments, between her stubborn nature and her determination to get at Miraak’s goat. 

If they wanted to get through this in one piece, Casil was going to have to swallow her own pride. As bad as Miraak was, Casil was starting enough problems of her own that could have been avoided if she wasn’t so focused on her dislike for the other man. For once, Jenassa was rather relived the woman was mute. If her words could be heard from anywhere, the dunmer was certain her patron would be a corpse by now.

Nothing seemed to have changed in Skyrim since they had left. Even the number of dragons patrolling the skies seemed to remain the same, and Casil couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they had more time than she thought - or if Alduin was just trying to lull her into a sense of false security. Miraak had no opinion on it - which, he seemed to have little opinion on anything. He remained quiet at the back of the group for almost the entire trip, and when they had to stop he made sure he was as far from the others as he could manage. If they were at an inn, he always had his own room, and even in camp he made his own fire only just within shouting distance of the others. He did not trust them, he did not like them, and he was not about to go sharing his thoughts with them.

 

Even if he had many. The world had changed. He always knew it had changed - after all, four millennia in Apocrypha had given him access to books from every walk of time. He had read about the changes, seen the changes in the form of paintings and illustrations. He knew about the races that had come and gone since he had last walked Nirn, and the new inventions, new styles, the geological changes, the progression and decline of culture and language. None of those, in concept, had been a surprise to him. But seeing it… Seeing it was different. Windhelm still stood - four thousand years later. He had recalled walking those stone streets, even after Ysgramor had gone from its palace, four thousand years prior. And while some of the original stonework still existed, so much of it was gone, buried under new renditions and structures, worn down to smooth boulders that had lost all the details they’d once held. He could still see the ancient and familiar layout of the city, but it had become lost, muddled under thousands of years of growth and development. Even the architecture that had been built on top of the old stone did not look anything like he had once known. In the brief time they had spent there, he heard people talking about how much the city held its original style and look.

Miraak wanted to scoff. It didn’t at all, not even remotely. Even the palace had been changed and warped from its original form. The familiar sight of atmoran immigrants and merchants along the much more sparsely housed streets was gone. Now, houses filled with unfamiliar races of man, mer and beast were crammed together on the rubble of their previous renditions, with no true sign of what it’d once been. Even the nordic banners and decoration had become so far evolved from the atmoran ones that  had once hung in their place.

Miraak felt out of place. He felt like an ancient relic that belonged in a museum, if he had any remote understanding of what that could feel like. The road they took down to Falkreath was the same one he’d walked so many years prior, but nothing along it felt familiar. Even the shapes of the land had changed. Mountains had become duller while others had grown. The rivers had changed their positions and valleys had grown deeper. Some didn’t even exist anymore. Groupings of rocks he’d come to memorize as waypoints had simply vanished, buried, moved, eroded or overgrown with the passing of time.

He had been very confident about his return. About finally being free from Apocrypha, to return back to Tamriel and rule over Solstheim again, and perhaps all of the land past that. But when he finally saw everything again, he felt the dreadful sensation of  _ uncertainty  _ instead. Books and illustrations could only teach him so much. They could never make up for the knowledge and understanding that came from actually experiencing it. 

The first time he had exited his temple made him feel like he truly did not belong anymore. His land, the place he had spent centuries ruling over, that he knew every inch of, was nothing like it had been. The beautiful slopes of pine and snow that had made up most of the island had been eradicated on the south eastern side, reduced to burnt trees and wastes of ash inhabited by creatures he’d only read about. His land was an  _ island _ . Memories of his last moments there haunted him again as if they were fresh that night. Events that were lost in history for everyone else. His name was nothing but a vague memory in a single folktale of the Skaal, descendants of the people he’d once ruled over. The only people who remembered him, and he didn’t even get a name other than ‘traitor’.

Even just the physical aspects of the world had become so foreign to him. Smells, textures, tastes and sounds he thought he’d remembered caught him off guard. The taste of the first soup he’d managed to stomach was better than anything he could remember. It was one more reason he secluded himself off whenever possible. He was certain he looked foolish in how much he savored a simple piece of what he could only interpret as somewhat-stale bread at the inn in Windhelm, but after so long without any sort of food it was incredible. Even the bizarre ash yams that had been presented to him by his  _ dunmer  _ worshippers was like a fine crafted feast. His rather ratty sheets in their journey had still felt like they could have been silks from distant lands, and he had forgotten how wonderful the smell of pine and firewood was. Sometimes, it was almost too much.

The carriage creaked slowly up the path that lead to Casil’s house, carrying the last remains of her years of compiled necromancy materials and what little Miraak decided to bring with him. Casil wasn’t even sure what belongings Miraak  _ had _ , but she threw it into the carriage anyways.

To her relief, her house was still standing. Casil let out a sigh, relaxing on the back of her horse. She pulled Maehaur into the stables. 

“Where do you want us to put the bones?” Jenassa asked as Sterlas stopped the cart next to the stables.

Casil just motioned to the front of the house. She’d deal with them later. As long as the skeletons that guarded and tended to her house still were there, the miscellaneous bones could wait to be put away until after Alduin’s defeat. Casil hung up Maehaur’s saddle inside of the stable before making sure the horses had enough hay, accounting for the new one Miraak was now bringing with him. She glanced over as the man finally arrived, motioning for him to bring his horse over to the stables.

Miraak paused, looking Casil’s house over. “And here I thought you might live in a cave,” he scoffed, before turning his large black horse towards the stables.

Casil narrowed her eyes. ‘Like your temple?’ Casil signed in response, snagging the horse’s reigns as it drew close.

Miraak slid off of the horse’s back. “You think yourself witty,” he scoffed, letting her take care of his horse before moving to the front door. He grabbed a single bag he’d filled with what few ‘personal’ items he’d gathered off of the carriage, slipping it over a shoulder. The house was, like everything else had been, very foreign to him. Early 4th century cyrodilic in design, he figured. He glanced over his shoulder as the bosmer put his horse and its saddle away, and as Jenassa and Sterlas worked on unloading the carriage and tending to their horses that  had been dragging it. It was not the kind of dwelling he imagined of the other dragonborn. It was out of the way like he might have expected, yes, but it was… much nicer. While it had just been a idle insult, he really wouldn’t have been surprised to see that she was living in some sort of cave or disgusting hobble. 

Casil glared at him from the stable before making her way over, pushing past the atmoran before pulling the key to her house out from a string around her neck. Once it was unlocked, she nudged it open with her hip and headed inside.

‘I guess this will be where you’re staying for now,’ Casil signed once she’d gotten into the entry hall, waiting for Miraak to finish looking over the immediate room.

Miraak entered rather slowly, scanning his surroundings. It was… cluttered inside, but still much cleaner. A fire already crackled in the fireplace in the main hall, and the passing of a skeleton made him note that Casil had some interesting… servants that seemed to help keep the place clean. Much of it was decorated with various taxidermy and weavings. “... _ Quaint _ ,” he muttered. Good. He was being freed from Apocrypha to take on Alduin and was being housed in some necromancer’s backwoods cabin.

‘You’ll be staying in the room upstairs to the left,’ Casil signed, turning to walk into the main hall. Miraak followed behind her, very cautiously scanning the rest of the house. ‘You have the bed to the right. It’s usually Sterlas’s, but he said he’ll sleep in front of the fire. There’s plenty of sheets to change-’

“What?” Miraak snapped, stiffening. “You expect me to room with someone else?”

Casil furrowed her brow at him. ‘Sorry, but my house isn’t exactly made for visitors. Two visitors was already pushing it,’ Casil signed rather casually. 

“I refuse,” he said firmly. “I will not room with others.”

Casil shrugged. ‘You’re not getting my room. You can room with Jenassa, or you can choose to sleep in front of the fire instead.’

Miraak shook his head in irritation. No, he would  _ not  _ be treated like this. He was not about to share a room with anyone here. He brushed past Casil, quickly moving to look at the other rooms in hopes that at least  _ one  _ of them could be used as another sleeping space. 

Casil sighed, moving to lean in the doorway to the kitchen as she watched him inspect her library tower and then her garden. ‘Look, if you want privacy, you and sleep in the  _ basement. _ ’ She signed, giving him a somewhat cocky look. ‘Which, based off of your temple, would probably suit you just fine.’

Miraak tightened his fingers around the strap of his bag upon seeing what Casil said, but it was the only sign of irritation that came from him to her disappointment. “Fine,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “And where might that be?”

Casil pulled away from the door frame, moving into the kitchen. Miraak followed, eyeing one of the skeletons that was busy presumably preparing dinner or something. She motioned to a hatch in the back corner of the kitchen floor, pulling it open before dropping down below.  Good. It wasn’t even a real stairwell. Miraak kept his thoughts to himself, descending down after her. To his relief, the basement was at least… clean. A forge took up the back portion, complete with a smelter, an anvil, and more. He could tell that it had been built to properly ventilate the smoke and air, and he assumed one of the skeletons kept the fires going. Even with the heap of coal in one corner that lead to a shute above, the room remained surprisingly clean. The closer half must have at one point been a small wine cellar and bar, but only the bar itself, a table and a few chairs really remained. A small alcove in one side was filled with the remains of a wine rack, and Miraak noted it was just deep enough for him to probably lay down in.

‘I don’t have another bed,’ Casil signed once she’d lit one of the sconces in the wall. ‘But I can send Jenassa or Sterlas out to get one. In the meantime, i’m sure Sterlas will still let you borrow his. You’ll just have to work out how to get any of it down the stairs and down here,’ she signed. ‘Don’t touch my smithing stuff.’ She pointed a finger threateningly at him, turning to head back up the ladder. She paused, turning around swiftly to him. ‘Don’t touch  _ any  _ of my stuff,’ she added, before heading upstairs and closing the hatch behind her.

Picky already. Casil let out a stressed exhale one the hatch was closed, heading back to help Sterlas and Jenassa finish moving stuff out of the cart.

“Miraak already make himself comfortable?” Sterlas asked, hauling one of the boxes Miraak had packed out of the back.

Casil rolled her eyes. ‘In the basement, yeah.’

Sterlas arched his brow with a laugh. “What, my bed not enough?”

‘He doesn’t want to room with people,’ Casil said, moving to grab something smaller she could lift. She followed Sterlas inside, setting the things to the side in the entry hall where it was out of the way and could be dealt with later. Casil eyed Miraak’s boxes, tempted to see what was in them, but she managed to bite back the temptation for the time being. He seemed perturbed enough as it was, and she felt  thankful he at least seemed to accept accommodations as far away from her as possible.

“Eh, I guess he did keep demandin’ for a seperate inn room. And had a whole screen to keep us from seein’ him before,” Sterlas mused. “Why does he care though? Ain’t like we haven’t already seen his face.”

Casil shrugged. She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure if she cared. It was irritating, but asking him wasn’t likely to get them anywhere productive either. It was just another stupid thing she had to put up with for the time being.

Jenassa came in with the last of the boxes, closing the door behind her with her foot. “So… I won’t have to be sharing a room with him?” Jenassa asked hopefully, setting the crate down with a grunt.

‘I guess not,’ Casil signed. ‘But we might need another bed. At least the mattress.’

“What, how long ya plannin’ on lettin’ him hang around for?” Sterlas asked, moving to the main hall. The other two followed in tow. “Because if it ain’t that long, I’m not bothered by just sleepin’ in front of the fire for awhile. Save ya some money, since… we ain’t fairin’ great after spendin’ so much,” Sterlas muttered, scratching the back of his head. He hooked his own personal bag on one of the posts at the bottom of the stairs before hooking a chair out from the long hall table, plopping down with a sigh of relief. 

“What…  _ is  _ your plan now?” Jenassa asked, looking to Casil with a frown.

Casil grimaced. She moved to sit down in her usual spot at the table as well, just dropping her satchel next to her seat. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘To both questions. Hopefully, I won’t have to have him here for long. But I also don’t know what to  _ do  _ now. Do we just…’ she waved a hand, ‘go wait somewhere for Alduin? Go climb up to the top of the Throat of the World and hope he shows up to pick a fight with us?’

Sterlas snorted, pounding his fist on the table a few times until the kitchen skeleton came out with a bottle of mead for him. “Yeah, i’m sure that’ll be great. Just dress yaself up like a chicken and he’ll come runnin’,” he laughed, cracking the cork out of the bottle before throwing back a mouthful.

Jenassa rolled her eyes, standing at the end of the table between the two. “If Alduin is still looking for you, he obviously hasn’t found you. Did Miraak have any plans?”

Casil shook her head. ‘No. He was expecting me to have one,’ she signed sheepishly, before sighing. Her shoulders slouched. ‘I’m not sure what to do at this point, other than to just… get Alduin’s attention. But that seems like a bad plan.’

“You will need another dragon who knows where his holdout resides.”

Casil glanced to Miraak. The man leaned in the doorway where she had been earlier, arms folded across his chest. ‘Do you know one?’

Miraak snorted. “No. If you would recall, prior to a week ago I had been trapped in Apocrypha for a few  _ thousand  _ years. I do not know of the current state of the dragons, or where they may be residing.”

Some use he was. Casil narrowed her eyes. ‘Great. So that’s helpful,’ Casil said, throwing a hand up in the air.

“Unlike you, dragonborn, I have  _ any  _ part of a plan. Most people go ahead with things like this with more  _ thought _ , instead of running blindly into them like you do,” Miraak retorted.

Jenassa closed her eyes tightly. “If we need a dragon to tell us, how do we  _ get  _ a dragon?”

“It is not  _ getting  _ a dragon that is the problem. It is knowing which dragon would  _ know  _ where Alduin is hiding,” Miraak replied. “Every and any dragon will bend to my word when I choose, but I cannot make a dragon answer a question it does not know the answer to.”

‘So how would we find out who knows?’ Casil asked in irritation. 

“You would be looking for a dragon who is high in Alduin’s ranks. Before I left to Apocrypha, Paarthurnax was his right hand - though I have heard that has since changed.” 

Casil’s ears twitched slightly. There was a bitter undertone to Miraak’s voice that made her raise an eyebrow, but she waved it off for the moment. ‘Well, you heard right then. Paarthurnax is a pacifist and a monk on top of the Throat of the World now. He teaches the Greybeards,’ Casil replied. ‘Do you think he still might know though?’

Miraak let out a low hum. “Perhaps,” he replied simply. “If you have no better plan, then perhaps it would be wise to ask him of what he knows.”

“What, ya can’t just go and make another dragon tell ya who’s in charge?” Sterlas asked, kicking his feet up onto the table. Jenassa swiftly pushed them off, earning a huff from the redguard.

Miraak’s mask tilted only slightly, the gold glinting in the firelight. “And draw the attention of every dragon as we fail to get our answer?” he scoffed. “No.”

Casil rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘I’ll go ask Paarthurnax then if he knows. I take it you don’t want to go or want to come because Paarthurnax will kick your ass?’ She said, side-eyeing Miraak.

Miraak chuckled lowly. “The old dovah could only dream. Even in his prime, I could have easily slain him. But now he is nothing but a weak old hermit. He would be a waste of my time.”

‘Really? Is that why you didn’t kill him the first time?’ Casil asked, her gaze deadpan.

“Casil...” Jenassa warned. There she went, picking a fight again.

“He was too much of a coward to have come and fought me. He would rather have sent his weaker brethren to die, rather than face me himself,” Miraak replied calmly.

Casil raised her hands again, but Jenassa slapped them down. Casil glared at her, but Jenassa paid it no mind. “Casil will go then to speak to Paarthurnax,” Jenassa confirmed, ignoring Casil’s pouting. “At least one of us should travel with her to make sure she stays safe.” She looked away from Miraak, knowing it wouldn’t be him.

Sterlas took another sip of his mead. “I’ll take her,” he said, giving a shrug. “Ain’t the first time i’ve been up and down those damn stairs.”

Casil glanced reluctantly towards Miraak again. ‘And what will you do?’

Miraak folded his arms across his chest. “Wait,” he replied simply. “I have little to do to assist you in this endeavor.”

Casil narrowed her eyes, before forcing herself to just nod. ‘Give me a day of rest and then we’ll leave,’ she said, rubbing her face. She didn’t want to waste time, but after traveling all the way from Windhelm she needed a moment. She was still feeling weak from pulling Miraak out of Apocrypha, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone. 

“That sounds like a plan,” Sterlas said, nodding his head. “Jenassa can keep watch over the house.” The werewolf glanced at Miraak, not at all being subtle about what he meant.

Miraak didn’t react. Casil eyed him carefully. Hopefully, Jenassa would be safe watching him alone. And, hopefully, getting to Paarthurnax wouldn’t go poorly - if the old dragon was even still  _ alive.  _ She leaned back in her chair as Sterlas and Jenassa moved to small talk, keeping an eye on Miraak out of the corner of his eye until he slipped back into the kitchen to return to the basement. Last she’d seen Paarthurnax, he’d been fighting Alduin. She could only hope he was still alive, and that Alduin wasn’t just waiting for her up there at the top of the mountain.

She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

 

After dragging the bed he’d been offered down the stairs, through several doorways, before managing to fit it down into the basement, Miraak did not emerge besides to grab food before skulking below again.

He felt… out of place. Casil, Jenassa and Sterlas had clearly been traveling with each other for some time - they meshed and talked like a familiar family, and even through the stone floor Miraak could hear Sterlas’s booming outbursts of laughter that caused plates to rattle overhead. He did not know if having his cultists there would make him feel any better - in all truthfulness, he wasn’t sure what to think about them to begin with. He had known they had  _ existed  _ to some extent before returning to Apocrypha - he could hear them and sense them through his will and magic - but where they had  _ come  _ from and really why they had gathered in so  many numbers was… a mystery to him. By no means was he about to complain or turn them away - he did, after all,  _ deserve  _ worshippers. His cultists had been wise to have come to bow before him and try to help bring him back to the world he rightfully should rule over. And yet, he had no connection to them individually. Even when he had been a true dragon priest on Solstheim millenia before he had  _ some  _ sort of connection with his worshippers. But with his very, very limited connection to them and the world before his return, that familiarity simply did not exist with this new cult. Having them around would not have made him feel any more relaxed, or made him feel any more like he belonged. It wasn’t the end of the world, that was certain, but after so long in Apocrypha…

Miraak crossed his legs, sitting hunched on the bed where he’d shoved it into the small alcove where the winerack had once been. Things had changed very suddenly, and he was realizing he was having a difficult time keeping up. The dragonborn’s sudden, unexpected appearance, her request to help face Alduin, the very sped up process of returning to Nirn…

Miraak rested his elbows on knees, folding one hand over the other before resting his chin on them as he stared intently at the wall across the room. A very rather battered looking basket weaving that had definitely seen better days hung on it, slightly ajar. He’d tried to fix it twice already, but every time Sterlas slammed his chair forward upstairs the weaving tilted again. 

This… was just one extra step he had not been planning when he returned, but he wasn’t sure if it was necessarily a bad one. He was not fond of having to follow around these people, or that escaping Apocrypha had nearly killed him because of the dragonborn’s rash choices, but at the end of the day it would lead him to both the words of Dragonrend, and to slaying Alduin himself. Dragonrend was only a extra, he supposed, because slaying Alduin… that was the real prize. He was getting a chance to do what he should have done before he was pulled from Nirn the first time. This time, Alduin  _ would  _ fall under his blade. Perhaps it was a better start to his time on Nirn again. Slaying the World-Eater would return his name into the world, and it would come with the association of  _ heroism.  _ Of killing Alduin himself, saving all of Tamriel and Nirn from the World-Eater. His name had become forgotten. Few remembered him, and almost no information about him existed. It would not  be hard to use that to his advantage, even if the thought made him bitter. Maybe being wiped out of history would be in his favor at the end of the day. His cult, hopefully, was establishing a base somewhere in the western mountains, what he understood to be the border between Skyrim and Hammerfell. He had raked his mind for where temples he had known existed, and where they might have been left undisturbed for his cultists to hide in. When they found a place, they would send word to him in some manner. He had to trust them on that, though ultimately if they failed… he wasn’t sure if it mattered. They were useful, and they had been his reason he’d survived Mora’s attack ultimately - but if they perished, or did not return to him, they did not have much else of value. What they had taken out of the temple was largely things brought in by them in the first place, or bits and pieces of history that wasn’t quite his own that had been left in the temple from one time period to another. Even the items in the knapsack that sat by the foot of the bed weren’t his really. The only things that belonged to him now were the clothes on his back, his mask, and the twisted green sword that lurked in the far corner of the room.

The reality of his return was bleak to him, but he would use it to remind himself of what the bottom of the pit was - and where he would never allow himself to return again. Solstheim could wait. The Skaal were hopeful that he would never return, the only people who really seemed to remember him. That was fine. They could believe that. For now,  he would leave them be. The dragonborn had opened up a different door for him, and he would be a fool not to take it. 

The dragonborn.

Miraak narrowed his eyes. Casil, a mute bosmer necromancer. No, not at all what he had expected from the Last Dragonborn. His successors under the title of dragonborn in any form had been nord and imperial. When she had arrived in Apocrypha, he hadn’t even been aware that Alduin had returned, or that the Last Dragonborn had been found. But she had found him, searched him out, because despite being dragonborn…

She was mute. The Last Dragonborn was a mute. And so she had sought him out. If the Last Dragonborn had her voice, like she  _ should  _ have… would he have been left? Would she have ever even heard of him?

The corner of his mouth twitched.

He had been remembered to assist someone else. 4000 years forgotten and trapped in Apocrypha, to be freed by someone who just needed to use him.

His lips curled back into a smirk.

How poignant. Akatosh had loved all the others, after him. And it seems that Akatosh had loved all the others, before her. Akatosh had never saved him, and Akatosh did not seem to have bothered watching over her either.

Miraak heard the sound of people shifting around at the table above, sounding like people were heading off to rest or to do something else. He shifted, finally sliding off the edge of the bed. He got up to pace around the room, examining the things Casil had left down there. Most of it was scraps from forging, including various handles, leather straps, and bits of metal unfit for… whatever it was that she was doing. Based on the way the forge had been set up, and the various materials and molds she had laying around, Miraak hazard a guess that it was less  _ building  _ and more of  _ destroying.  _ A few weights calibrated out with charts and prices on scraps of paper. Pieces of Imperial and Stormcloak garb that still had the insignia. A scavenger.

Miraak kicked the wooden hilt of a dagger out of his way as he paced around the forge at the middle of the far left side of the room.

He did not like Casil. Already, most of their conversations had devolved into insults and fights. She acted with no plans, and she did not have the skills to make up for it when push came to shove. What plans she had seemed… half-baked. While she had succeeded at all in saving him, it had nearly cost him his life. Miraak reached up and rubbed at the wound carefully, wincing. Casil’s journey to the Throat of the World would buy him more time for it to heal, and to adjust to the world again - time he seriously needed. He was not about to look weak and foolish in front of her or anyone else, and he was not about to rush into fighting Alduin if he still didn’t have his footing. As much as it irritated him, maybe it was fine for now that Casil didn’t know what she was doing or what to do next, because it would buy him a bit more time. So as long as they weren’t running as close to the  _ end  _ as Casil seemed to think. Whatever the end  _ was.  _ Alduin had been the World-Eater 4000 years ago, but nothing had ever come of it. There were plenty of stories and speculations, but there was no  _ certainty  _ to any of it. Miraak wasn’t sure how truly threatened he should feel about the black dragon at the end of the day. Casil seemed to believe that the world was going to instantly stop or something, but Miraak doubted it. Alduin could threaten all he wanted, but Miraak had stopped fearing him long before he’d become trapped in Apocrypha.

Casil though… Miraak picked up a knife, turning it in his fingers just to feel the metal. Very… unlike a dragonborn. Cowardly. She did not even remotely understand her true nature, nor did she seem to listen to it or accept it. He knew she was dragonborn from the moment she had entered Apocrypha - it had made his own soul spark and burn, and he could feel the energy from her that matched his own. But it was weaker, with so few dragon souls to power it, and no control or knowledge of her own thu’um. The very  _ concept  _ of a dragon who was unable to use their thu’um felt simply  _ wrong  _ to him.  _ Every  _ dragon,  _ dovah  _ or  _ man _ , knew how to use it. It deeply disturbed him that Casil… simply could not. Could he really call her a dragonborn then? Even if he knew she was rival dragon, his soul simply refused to acknowledge her as  _ another  _ if she didn’t even have the capacity to do what was one of the very core natures of being  _ dov.  _ And she had sought him out because she couldn’t use it, because without him, someone who  _ could  _ use it, she was powerless to stop Alduin.

Miraak snorted, setting the knife down. No, she was powerless at all. She was no threat. When this was done, he would slay her as well and put her out of her misery. It would be cruel to leave a dovah alive that could not use its own voice, and to leave it trapped in a frail mortal’s body. And then there would be absolutely no way she could ever be a problem in the future. Though he doubted she could ever be strong enough to face him, removing her from the world would ensure that none could ever consume his soul, and perhaps he would assure that he would be unstoppable at that point. But, for now, she would live. He needed someone who knew the world for now, and he needed Dragonrend. 

And once Alduin was gone, she would be removed as well.


	21. XXI - Rel [Dominance]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me what like 6 months to decide how I wanted to deal with a bunch of plot stuff? Lmao. So have a 13k word chapter I guess. I'm so sorry;; Bless all of ya'll who leave kudos and comments, you make me so happy ;A; thank you for being patient with my snail ass.
> 
> Chapter contains smut, which is. Probably safely should be considered dubcon :"U

The cold, howling winds of the Throat of the World were as awful as they had been the last time Casil had visited, but now the dark clouds and low visibility harbored the ominous, nerve-wracking possibility of hiding the World-Eater himself. But their travel to the mountain itself had been undisturbed, as had their trek up the thousands of steps to High Hrothgar. The old stone monastery still remained, and so did the dragon skeleton. The Greybeards were there to answer her call, and to her relief they informed her of Paarthurnax’s survival.

The old dragon seemed pleased to see her when she reached the Throat of the World with Arngeir’s assistance.

“Drem Yol Lok, dovahkiin…” Paathurnax rumbled, perched atop his word wall. Casil could see the wounds that were still healing along his back and maw, gashes and burned scales proof of a difficult battle with Alduin. But the old dragon still stood, and that was enough. Casil bowed her head to him, giving him a nervous smile. “Did you find the one you _tovit,_ you searched for?” He questioned, tilting his head.

Casil nodded, biting her lower lip slightly.

The dragon rumbled. “I was not aware that a speaker of the Voice who could use such a shout still lived. I must wonder who it is that you found. _Wo los,_ who is this mortal?”

Casil’s jaw tensed. Casil felt like there was a very, _very_ real chance that Paarthurnax knew who Miraak was - and she highly doubted Paarthurnax would like to hear that he was the one she fetched. She shook her head, waving her hand as dismissively as she could. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, hoping he’d drop it while she pulled out her journal to scribble a question to him.

‘I’ve found someone. That’s what matters,’ Casil wrote first, showing it to Paathurnax before writing, ‘but we aren’t sure what to do now. We aren’t sure where Alduin is now.’

Paarthurnax hummed lowly, the end of his tail twitching. His pale eyes looked Casil over cautiously. “Hmm… if… you insist,” the dragon rumbled. “I have no doubt that I will learn of them soon.” He shifted, pulling his wings under him slightly. “ _Hi yah Alduin…_ Alas… I do not know where Alduin hides. He fled after our _krif,_ our fight… but where to… I do not know.”

‘Do you know any dragons that might?’

Paarthurnax let out a low hum. “If I did, how do you believe that may help you?”

Shit. She hadn’t… considered how she was going to explain that. One more thing she hadn’t thought about or planned, coming up to catch her. She stiffened, trying to find an answer. Her fingers fumbled with the edge of her journal. ‘I was hoping the one I found who can use the Voice would be able to speak to them an ask them.’

“One who is _mid,_ loyal to Alduin, will not simply tell you where he dwells,” Paarthurnax said, flashing his fangs. “It will not be that simple. Surely, you have another plan…?”

Casil sighed. ‘I just need to know if there is a dragon who knows where Alduin is, and then we were going to figure it out from there. Because we don’t have anything else to go off of right now,’ Casil scrawled. 

Paarthurnax’s scales rattled softly in the cold mountain wind. Casil swallowed, unnerved under the dragon’s pale gaze. “ _Hi bo kreh miiraad._ You are set on a strange path… one I do not follow,” he said after a moment’s pause, exhaling a stream of fog from his maw. “But… you have made it this far, despite all odds. Perhaps, then, this will work _kreh miiraad_ as they have.” He shifted, claws scraping ice and frost from the wall. “Once, I served as Alduin’s right-hand, as you would call it… since then, I have heard that hm, the dragon Odahviing now stands in my place. If any _dovah_ knows where Alduin is now, it would be him.”

Casil closed her eyes, exhaling in relief. She nodded, moving to write down the name. _Od-ah-viing._ A name that made the back of her throat itch. Her brow furrowed a bit as she looked back up at Paarthurnax, writing a bold-lettered ‘thank you’ to show the dragon.

The dragon shook his head. “This is your _dez_ , your destiny. Though it may not be what I expected… it is my duty to aid you, to see this to the end,” he replied in a deep rumble. “But do not underestimate Odahviing. If he is Alduin’s right-hand, it is for good reason. He will not be weak, and he will not simply tell you where Alduin dwells. Whoever it is that you have found who can speak our tongue… do not trust them more than you must.”

Casil’s jaw tensed a bit. ‘I know,’ she wrote simply. ‘I don’t plan to, for either.’ She wasn’t going to do anything more than she had to, and if she didn’t have to go question a dragon she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do _any_ of this if she didn’t have to. It had been a mistake warning Whiterun about Alduin in the first place. 

To Casil’s surprise, Paarthurnax’s eyes softened a bit. “I know that you do not.” Paarthurnax slowly raised his head, spreading his wings wide. “Take care, _dovahkiin._ Soon, you will face Alduin - the final step in your journey. That much is certain. The path may be straight, but it is dangerous. Do not take it lightly.” 

Casil brought her arm up to shield her face from the burst of snow that followed Paarthurnax as he took to the air. By the time she pulled it away, the dragon had disappeared into the clouds, leaving her standing alone in front of the word wall. Casil grimaced, tucking the journal back into her bag so she could finally tuck her fingers back into her sleeves and under her shawl. 

After they found this Odahviing, presumably they would know where Alduin was. And then… it was just a matter of slaying Alduin himself. 

Casil looked down at the snow in front of her. Soon, she would have to give Miraak the words to Dragonrend in order to defeat Alduin. And assuming they both survived the following fight… Casil might be in trouble. She closed her eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath of cold air that bit the inside of her nose and lungs. She would need to find a way out after Alduin was dead, since Miraak seemed rather… intent… on seeing her dead after. Why, she didn’t know. _Truly_ why. She doubted he was seriously threatened by her. Even if she _could_ eat his soul, she knew she probably couldn’t defeat him in a fight, even if it pained her to admit it. And she didn’t _want_ to try to fight or kill him - but that fact didn’t seem to matter much to him. She shook her head to herself, reaching to pull up her hood over the frigid tips of her ears before she paced back towards where Sterlas and Arngeir waited at the start of the path back down.

 

Jenassa had been watching him like a hawk since Sterlas and Casil had left. Any time he made his way out of the cellar, the dunmer had her eyes on him, never letting him stray too far from her sight. The only exception was if he went outside - after which point she seemed not to care what he was up to so as long as it wasn’t loud or obviously destructive.

Miraak _hated_ it. 

Casil had left her room obviously locked, and with Jenassa’s constantly prying eyes she left little availability to look more _closely_ at the bosmer’s house and belongings. For a time, he considered removing her in some fashion, but no doubt any sort of meddling with her companion would anger the other dragonborn - and as much as he didn’t particularly care for her personal feelings or opinions, anything that might jeopardize the words he needed wasn’t something he wanted to risk. Even if Casil was the one who really needed _him,_ he had learned many times before not to take more risks than he had to. Jenassa would have to stay as she was, mind and body intact as it was found - even if it meant he had few chances to better understand the other dragonborn or the world he had returned to.

Miraak shifted his weight to his other foot, tilting his head back as he surveyed the books crammed into the shelves of Casil’s book tower. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already at least _seen_ all of these books before, if not _read_ them, but he had been hoping they would tell him something about Casil. For most people, their bookshelves reflected a great deal about them - their interests, what they enjoyed, their philosophies, tastes… but these bookshelves? Casil’s bookshelves? Were simply a _disaster._ Like a disorganized library, full of so many subjects and focuses, but with no rhyme or reason to where they were placed. And, frankly, Miraak doubted Casil was actually interested in most of the books. Based on the heap of duplicates rather hastily and messily tossed into a corner, Casil just seemed to be collecting them - without necessarily being _interested_ in them. And while people’s shelves could lead to surprising discoveries about an individual, Miraak sincerely doubted that Casil had any interest in the 45 volume long book series on 3rd era Cyrodiilic theatre that she was missing at least ⅓ of the books for, in no particular order.

Idly, he shifted a few books over on one of the few shelves that had enough wiggle space between the books to allow them to actually be moved. While the books were ultimately no different than the ones he’d read and seen in Apocrypha, the variety of colors, textures, and quality of binding brought a new life to them that Miraak had missed. In Apocrypha, every book had looked the same on the outside - black and bound in some sort of strange, cloth-like material, with no defining features whatsoever. Miraak’s fingers hooked into the spine of a beautiful leather-bound book, accented with gold leafing and some intricate bits of metal that had been lovingly worked into the leather.

“I wouldn’t think you would want to look at a book again after where you just came from.”

Miraak narrowed his eyes under his mask, releasing his grip on the book so it tilted back into place with a gentle thud. Stiffly, he turned to face Jenassa, folding his arms behind his back as he eyed the dunmer leaning in the doorway. “Books can tell a great many things about a person,” he replied flatly.

Jenassa shifted her gaze to the crowded bookshelves, looking them over. “So what do these tell you?”

“That your patron has no sense of direction, or organization,” Miraak replied, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth sharply. “Rather, a confirmation of what I already knew about her.”

Jenassa arched a brow, glancing back at Miraak with a look of disinterest. “My patron will return in a matter of days, and then we can finish all of this… _nonsense,_ and we can go our separate ways,” Jenassa said, folding her arms tighter against her chest. “You have no need to be as _nosy_ as you are now. Casil has no desire to have anything more to do with you than she must - whatever knowledge or secrets you may be trying to discover in her belongings won’t do you any good, and i’m growing tired of having to make sure you don’t go rooting through her things.”

Miraak snorted. “Is that so?” he mused, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

Jenassa narrowed her eyes. “Leave my patron be. I understand she has done plenty that is no doubt deserving of your displeasure, but she is of no threat to you.”

Miraak turned, reaching up to trail his fingers over the spines of the books as he paced towards the doorway where Jenassa stood. “She is dragonborn. She will always be a threat,” he replied simply, feeling the bumps of each spine through the leather of his gloves. “I cannot promise anything to you. For now, I will not do her any harm she does not warrant with her own actions. After all, she was the one who sought me out, who _needs_ me. And with the words of Dragonrend, I suppose she has a use herself. But…” He stopped in front of Jenassa, craning his neck to look down at her. Jenassa stared impassively back into the dark slits of his mask, digging her fingers into her arms. “After Alduin is dead… we will see if things change.” He pulled his arm away from the book shelves, roughly brushing Jenassa aside so he could pass her.

Jenassa toppled out of the way, grimacing as she caught herself on the doorframe. “We won’t let you hurt her.”

Miraak chuckled, pacing towards the kitchen. “I have no doubt about that,” he replied simply. 

Jenassa watched him return back to the cellar, disappearing below the hatch door in the kitchen to his prefered location. Her fingers twitched with the desire to hurl something after him, but instead she resigned to sitting herself down in one of the dinner table’s chairs. She sighed, running a hand back through her hair in frustration as she eyed the cellar hatch. Miraak had been nothing but a smug, brooding nuisance since he’d arrived, and though they’d only exchanged a few words Jenassa couldn’t wait to be rid of him. Casil and Sterlas could not return home any faster - and Jenassa couldn’t wait. She didn’t like having to be the only other one in the house with him - while it was the right choice sending Sterlas with Casil, being alone with Miraak was… unnerving. He hadn’t done anything malicious or violent, but he certainly gave the air of someone who might murder you in your sleep, and after what Jenassa had seen of his temple she was not particularly fond of turning her back on him. Casil’s skeletons weren’t much help in the realm of security - even if Miraak _did_ make any sort of malicious attempt on her of any form, they wouldn’t be anything more than a thin layer of paper between herself and Miraak, if they could get between them at all.

Jenassa eyed some of the mead barrels in the kitchen. A few times she’d been tempted to move some of them or other heavy objects over the cellar door to keep him contained until Casil and Sterlas returned, but besides simply being a bad idea, she had a bad feeling it wouldn’t be enough to contain him anyways.

 

A gust of frigid air followed Casil and Sterlas in as they made their way through the front door, making every candle in the entry and main hall flicker. Jenassa let out a sigh of relief, getting up from the dinner table as Casil pulled her hood down and shook out her hair.

“Good, you made it back safe. Did Paarthurnax know of anyone?” Jenassa asked, swiftly making her way towards the two.

Casil nodded, carefully removing her muddy boots.

“Yeah. Casil has it written down. Alduin’s right-hand… dragon, I guess,” Sterlas said, kicking off his own boots before shoving them aside out of the pathway. “Glad ya still seem to be alive. Miraak decided to leave you in one piece?”

Jenassa rolled her eyes, shooting Sterlas a bit of a glare. “While you and Casil were out I was making sure he didn’t get into anything. I don’t think I get paid enough to watch someone this constantly,” she muttered, dropping her voice low.

Casil looked up, tilting her head. ‘Nosy?’ she questioned, not surprised.

“I’m certain i’ve caught him on at least five occasions trying to find a way into your room without ruining the lock,” Jenassa said, putting her hands on her hips. She glanced over her shoulder, hearing the cell door click. “He’s still a danger,” Jenassa said lowly again, giving Casil a worried look before turning as Miraak emerged from the basement.

The four converged in the main hall, Sterlas taking his usual seat at the fireside end of the table after grabbing the biggest bottle of mead he could find.

“And Paarthurnax gave you a name?” Miraak asked, waiting simply at the fireside end as well as Casil hung her shawl up before taking a seat at the table herself.

Casil nodded, reaching into her robe pockets to pull out a small scrap of paper. Miraak stepped forward to reach for it, but Casil kept it away. She shot the man a glare, tucking the folded paper into the palm of her hand so she could sign. ‘When you have the name, what is your plan?’

Miraak straightened out, but didn’t pull himself back from the edge of the table. Casil could hear a sigh of frustration under his mask. “Do you plan on asking me that question for _everything_ we plan to do?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

‘I don’t trust you,’ Casil signed.

“And yet, you have had no plans of your own thus far, and have had to trust me for the next plan each time anyways. I don’t believe you are in any spot to be so picky,” Miraak hissed, before holding out a hand. “Now hand me the name.”

‘Give me the answer,’ Casil signed back.

“Casil,” Jenassa sighed.

“I will summon the dragon, and then it will be up to them to decide if they answer to me freely, or if I must make them answer to me by force.”

Silence fell over the table as Casil and Miraak stared each other down, until at last she resigned and handed him the paper. Miraak snapped it out of her hand, pulling back to lean back against the edge of the fireplace again before unfolding it.

“So,” Sterlas began, removing the cork out of his mead, “how do ya summon a dragon?”

Miraak scanned over the name. Casil had misspelled it, but he knew the name. “Odahviing…? Interesting,” he hummed, before folding the paper up again and tucking it into his robes. “A dragon’s name serves as a shout, and a dragon will answer a call as a challenge. Odahviing will no doubt answer mine. He knows who I am,” Miraak said, folding his arms again. “But once we’ve summoned him and get our answer, we will need to move quickly. It will likely only be a matter of time before other dragons know where we are, or that Alduin knows we are coming for him. We cannot give any of them the chance to act first and get the upper hand.”

“So we’ll need to have everything prepared before we go?” Jenassa asked.

Miraak tilted his mask towards her. “How much do you plan on preparing?” He scoffed. 

Jenassa shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m afraid I’m not sure what we should be _expecting._ This is _Alduin_ we’re planning to face, isn’t it?”

“He ain’t exactly someone I wanna go fight without any preparation,” Sterlas agreed, leaning back in his chair.

Casil nodded in agreement. ‘We might as well make sure we have everything we’ll need for a fight.’

Miraak turned away with an arrogant swing of his head. “Ah, I forgot. You are hardly a dragonborn. A real dragonborn would not _need_ to prepare for this fight,” he said, turning to pace into the kitchen.

Casil shot daggers at his back, but wasn’t at all surprised by his words. She looked back to Jenassa and Sterlas, unable to make any snide remarks with his back turned. ‘We’ll sort things out tomorrow. I think I want to try to bring more necromancy supplies if I can,’ she signed.

Sterlas nodded, taking a sip out of his mead bottle. “Well, we’re gonna take ourselves a few more days to get stuff in order. Ya can, I don’t know, go mope around more or somethin’ if ya want. Whatever ya think is a better use of time,” Sterlas called after Miraak.

“And you think taking more time to make needless preparations is a better use of our time?” Miraak snapped back, pausing over the trap door with the latch in his hand.

“I ain’t about to take the risk of losing because we didn’t take another day or two to get ready. We ain’t help for anyone dead,” Sterlas replied, shrugging. “Ya the only one who thinks different.”

“Ah, yes,” Miraak growled. “And all of you _surely_ know better.”

Casil rolled her eyes, tipping her chair back so she could look at where Miraak was lurking in the kitchen corner. ‘You’ve been out of Apocrypha for like, a week.’

Miraak tightened his grip on the hatch. For a moment, he considered dropping the door and returning to the living space to continue the argument, but he knew it would get him nowhere. Instead, he finally finished opening it before disappearing down into the cellar, slamming the door over his head once he dipped down out of sight.

Sterlas sighed, looking at the label on the bottle in his hand. He shook his head. “Fuckin’ crazy, if he expects us to go face Alduin without any more preperation. Man really has lost touch with reality,” he grunted.

‘Implying that he ever was in touch with reality,’ Casil signed, before pushing her hair back out of her face. ‘I’m tired anyways. I want a day or two to rest up and figure this out, as  much as we can. I’d like to know where we’re heading before we make preparations, but if we’re going to have to go immediately after finding out I guess that isn’t a choice.’

“We’ll just pack light and compact and expect the worst,” Jenassa said.

“What _would_ be that worst?” Sterlas questioned, furrowing his brow.

Casil scratched her chin. ‘Somewhere hard to reach? Somewhere we can’t reach on horseback?’

“So probably anything we can carry on our own back, and nothing more,” Jenassa suggested.

Sterlas nodded. “Nothin’ heavy. And hopefully we ain’t goin’ anywhere that’s gonna take a few days to reach from… well, wherever we’re gonna summon this dragon.”

“Which also begs the question where we plan on summoning this thing,” Jenassa added.

‘Not here, that’s for sure,’ Casil interjected quickly. ‘I don’t want to summon dragons who serve Alduin to my _house._ ’

“So we should plan to travel at least half a day on horseback and cart before we try to figure out where we’re going next,” Jenassa hummed. “We need to take that into account for how much time we plan on taking here.”

‘Three days total? And a half day of travel to… I don’t know, somewhere near Sunderstone Gorge?’

Sterlas nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Until tomorrow then…” he took a great swig of his mead, “I’m gonna kick back and pretend we ain’t about to go fight some sort of god-dragon thing.”

 Casil sighed, nodding in agreement. 

They really were going to face Alduin soon. In just a few days, they were going to figure out where he was hiding, and then go to fight him. Casil didn’t know how long it would take to reach him, but now the time to face him was growing near. By the end of the week, Casil imagined, they would face the World-Eater himself.

And that terrified her.

 

Was bringing bones going to be worth it?

Casil had laid out a long stretch of canvas over the main hall table, and spread out the remains of her necromancy supplies. Not a lot remained from freeing Miraak - most of them had been ruined and destroyed fighting against lurkers. She had enough for maybe a dozen more skeletons, but she wasn’t sure if that was going to be _worth_ bringing along. What was a dozen skeletons going to do to the World-Eater? Even if she gave them bows to hit him while flying, any swipe of his claws, lash of his tail, or blitz of fire and ice would destroy them. Would the arrows even pierce his scales?

Casil sighed, picking up a chipped femur. She turned the discolored bone in her hand skeptically, before waving it up and down in thought. 

The cellar door creaked, before Casil could hear Miraak’s heavy boots finish coming up the stairs. She tightened her grip on the femur, bracing herself for whatever he might say as he walked into the room. She didn’t turn to face him as he paused in the door between the kitchen and the hall, observing everything she’d spread out over the table.

“And what do you plan on doing with all of this?” Miraak asked, almost scoffing.

Casil closed her eyes tightly for a moment, taking a deep breath before she threw the femur back onto the table. It clattered against the other bones as Casil grabbed the edge of the burlap stretch, sharply pulling it over to roll the bones and soul gems up into a bundle. She shook her head quickly, rolling the misshapen bundle down the table until she got to the other end.

“Were you _really_ planning on trying to use your petty _necromancy_ against Alduin?” Miraak asked incredulously. 

Casil’s lip twitched, taking a length of twine to try to tie the bundle up. She shook her head more vigorously, feeling her brow furrow sharply as she glared at the burlap.

Miraak scoffed. “You continue to impress me with your foolishness.”

Casil picked up the bundle, throwing it into a corner before spinning to face Miraak. ‘I’m a necromancer. I was looking at what I have, and I don’t need you to tell me that using it won’t be worth it. Back off,’ she signed angrily.

“Is this what you plan on spending your time doing?” Miraak asked, blowing off her comment. He looked around the room at the other meager packing Casil had done so far. It was well into the afternoon of their first day of packing, and Casil really did have little to speak of. Jenassa and Sterlas had left to grab a few supplies in Falkreath in all fairness, but even then it was less than what Casil even wanted. “If it is, then I’m tempted to call Odahviing and take you with me now, willingly or not.”

Casil clenched her jaw. ‘Jenassa and Sterlas are grabbing things at the nearest town. If you’re so impatient to leave, go ahead and have fun facing Alduin on your own without Dragonrend.’

Miraak let out a low chuckle, leaning against the doorway. “You continue to act like you stand any chance against me if I were to make _any_ sort of advance against you. I could face Alduin now, and I could get Dragonrend from you now, and you seem to fail to understand that.”

‘So why _don’t_ you?’

To Casil’s surprise, Miraak’s response wasn’t immediate. He seemed caught off guard for a moment, even leaning back slightly, but quickly he readjusted his posture. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, dragonborn. You should not take it so lightly,” he replied, his voice unwavering.

Casil rolled her eyes, before waving her hand dismissively in frustration. ‘Whatever. I’m making use of this time whether or not you like it. And if you want to spend it slowing me down, fine. Or you could make use of it and be useful.’

“You must have forgotten that I do not exactly have much to pack,” Miraak replied somewhat sharply.

Casil was caught a bit off guard this time, and immediately felt stupid for the comment. She looked down, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. Her lips pursed, nodding as she tried to recover. ‘Well… then… what _would_ you pack?’

“Nothing,” Miraak replied, finally pushing away from the doorway. He walked past Casil, pacing to the other end of the table. “I do not need anything outside of what I already have.”

Casil furrowed her brow at him, watching as he went to examine some of the old weavings that hung on the wall. Casil reluctantly followed after him. She stood at his side as he looked at the weavings, trying to ignore the soft itch at her gut again. Finally, he tilted his mask in her direction. ‘You’ve been trapped in Apocrypha for thousands of years. Are you _really_ that confident in defeating Alduin with your bare hands?’ 

Miraak fully turned to face Casil, his body stiff. “...You would not understand. You may be a dragonborn, but you are _not_ a dragonborn. You would understand if you were,” he replied, a hint of frustration in his voice. “My strongest weapon is my _voice._ No blade and no magic can compare to it, and even when I wield both they pale next to the might of my thu’um. You are a fool if you look at me and believe that I am not going into this battle prepared. My preparations, my knowledge, my training, is not something you can see. But as you yourself said,” he cocked his head to the side, “I have been trapped in Apocrypha for thousands of years. I have had all the time and preparation that I could possibly need.”

Casil swallowed, stiffening herself. Miraak didn’t move, and this time his calm demeanor and looming figure unnerved Casil. He was right - she was underestimating him, and maybe he was right in saying that he really _didn’t_ need any more time. What could more time provide him? What did he need? He did have weapons and tools more powerful than any Casil had really seen, and he did not need to take extra time to prepare and gather them. 

And maybe she’d understand that, if things had gone differently. But they hadn’t, and he was standing in front of her because he had the Voice, because he had a _voice,_ and she didn’t. 

Casil’s gaze flicked to the ground.

Miraak pulled away finally, moving towards her small greenhouse wing. “There is nothing you can do to prepare yourself more for Alduin. When we face him, you will be as prepared as you were when you first discovered that you were dragonborn. You will be as prepared as you were the day you were born. Two more days will not give you the strength, the knowledge, or the tools you need to slay him. Only I have those now - and you simply hold the key to the last weapon I need.” He paused in the garden doorway, looking back to Casil. His mask gleamed in the afternoon sun, sending a golden glow to the walls around him like a halo. “The only things you need to prepare for is watching a legendary battle unfold, where I will slay Alduin as I should have four thousand years ago. And you will have the privilege of watching. You do not need to fret about taking part yourself - you would be nothing but a nuisance. So pack all you would like, dragonborn, but it will do you no good.” With that, he turned away again, slipping into the greenhouse without another word.

Casil balled her hand into a fist. She had promised she’d behave while Jenassa and Sterlas were gone when they’d been weary about leaving her alone with Miraak, but it seems they were probably right to be doubtful of Casil’s behavior. Casil followed in after Miraak, pride wounded and a mix of humiliation and anger boiling in her chest.

Miraak was examining one of the man plants that had become overgrown in her greenhouse, rather gingerly turning the leaf of a small juniper berry plant between gloved fingers when Casil came storming in. Lazily, he glanced towards her. As he expected, Casil took a swing towards him, and he caught it with ease and a sigh. Immediately, Miraak shoved Casil back, forcing her to sit on the edge of one of the large planters at the center of the room. He loomed over her, leaning in close as he kept her fist in his hand, but the second he grew too close he paused.

Casil stared up at him, fighting back tears at the corners of her eyes, but she could feel it too. That pulling feeling, the twisting sensation in her stomach, the racing of her heart. Casil wasn’t sure if her desire to pummel Miraak into the dirt was making it worse, but it was definitely more noticable - and Miraak made the first indication Casil had really noticed that implied that he felt it too. Miraak lingered there, tense.

“If you want to live to see to after Alduin’s defeat, I would suggest you cease with this behavior,” Miraak said lowly, tightening his grip on Casil’s fist until it made her wince in pain. “I will not hesitate to consume you as well if you choose to continue to be a problem.”

Casil didn’t dare look up at the slits in his mask. The empty, eyeless stare was already too much for her. Her heart pounded harder in her chest. She went to try to get up, but Miraak pushed her back down with his free hand.

“Consider that,” he hissed, daring to lean in a bit closer.

Casil could feel the tug between them, coupled with the subtle sensation that came just before absorbing a soul, but without any of the exhilaration that followed. She closed her eyes, shifting uncomfortably before trying to lean away from him.

Miraak reached out, grabbing her chin roughly so he could force her to look at him. “Consider that, dragonborn. I will consume your soul as I would any other dragon,” he hissed. “Do you ever wonder if it hurts, to have your soul ripped out like that?” His grip tightened until Casil finally opened her eyes to look up at him, a few tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes  this time. The slits of his mask, as always, stared back with no emotion. Just empty, uncaring darkness. “Keep playing these games, and you will find out.” Finally, he let go, pushing Casil back almost into the dirt as he did.

Immediately, the tugging died away as he quickly paced to the other side of the room, leaving an aching, empty sensation in the pit of Casil’s stomach. She brought a sleeve up to quickly wipe her tears away, only feeling more humiliated now than she did before. Miraak had returned back to ignoring her, looking at the plants on the furthest side of the room from Casil. She didn’t want to let him win, but…

She couldn’t beat him. No matter how much she wanted to believe she could, that he was just arrogant and talk, it was true. Miraak was infinitely stronger than she was.

She pushed herself off of the edge of the planter, trying not to let out a pathetic sniffle as she stormed out of the greenhouse. 

She wanted everything to be over already.

 

Casil regretted sending Jenassa and Sterlas out to get supplies. For perhaps one of the first times in her life, Casil wished she had company she could lean on. The stress of what loomed ahead was starting to get to her, and when she felt like she needed it the most she didn’t have anyone to turn to. The house might as well have been empty, and Divines knew Miraak was not the person for her to confide in.

Casil fidgeted with her list of what she wanted to bring, which was frankly _pointless,_ but it helped ease at least some of her anxiety. Miraak was already plenty aware of how scared Casil was about the task ahead, and Divines knew her bringing up her worries to him would just be one more reason for him to heckle her. One more reason for insults and snide comments, one more reason for him to look down on her and remind her of how weak she was. Remind her that she couldn’t do this alone. Remind her of how much she relied on him, on other people, on -

Casil slammed the list down on the table, closing her eyes tightly for a moment before she pushed back the strands of grey hair that had fallen into her face at the sudden movement. She let out a pained exhale, brow knitting together. She could almost hear his mocking tone grating away at her in the back of her mind. The other dragonborn was about as supportive as a rotten beam of timber. Even though she knew things weren’t going to be easy from the start, Miraak still continued to surprise her with how _demeaning_ he was to her. 

The bosmer pushed herself back from the table. She could dwell all day on how much of an insufferable prick Miraak had been, but it wouldn’t change that she _did_ have to work with him, and she _did_ have to rely on him. And, more importantly, it wouldn’t change that they would soon be leaving to face the World Eater himself. She didn’t have time to mope and gripe about things she couldn’t change. She glanced around the main hall, ears swiveling slightly as she strained for sounds. Miraak had mostly kept to himself today, as usual, but now Casil needed to get things out of the basement. And if he was down there right now… 

She closed her eyes again. Well, he was going to have to deal with it. The basement was where she kept things, and it was his own fault for not wanting to room upstairs. 

Steeling herself, Casil turned and made her way into the kitchen, keeping alert to any noises she might be able to pick up from the room below. She reached down and pulled up the latch to the cellar door, trying to ignore the immediate feeling of fear in her gut. Miraak would just have to deal with it, she continued to tell herself. It was his choice for having chosen to sleep where she usually did work. The second she descended onto the first step, she heard a sharp hiss of pain from somewhere in the basement. Casil furrowed her brow, quickly stooping down to see what was going on.

Casil hadn’t actually been down in the basement since Miraak had taken it over, but in the few days he’d been down there she was surprised to see the changes he’d made to it. At some point he’d set up a very rudimentary alchemy station using supplies Casil had around the house and plants he’d apparently harvested out of her garden and green house when she wasn’t looking. Despite her request for him to keep his hands off of her things, most of the room had been re-sorted and organized - all the supplies she’d left cluttered around the room put away, and a few things had been brought out that Miraak seemed to be tinkering with himself. The bed he’d taken from upstairs had been shoved into the old wine rack alcove, and that was where the priest was currently sitting, shirtless, and with his back to Casil. Old bandages had been discarded in a basket at the side of the bed, and a heap of new bandages sat on the bed next to him while he worked on cleaning the still-open wound. 

It was the most Casil had seen of him without his heavy robes. The wound Mora had left him had not healed as much as Casil would have expected - parts of it were still open and angry, but it was at least looking closer to fully scabbing over. The rest of his back matched the wound pretty well, Casil realized. His skin was riddled with other scars - a mix of lashes, claws, dovahzul lettering, ritual scarring, and a nasty burn that crawled over a good portion of the left side of his body. His long, wavy black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and thrown over his shoulder to keep it out of the open wound, which he was struggling to dab at with a cloth. Or had been, until Casil had opened the trap door and startled him. He glared at her over his shoulder, black eyes narrowed under the shadow of his brow.

“I thought it was still considered _rude_ to enter someone’s private chambers without at least knocking,” Miraak sneered lowly, turning his face away once he had seen who it was.

Casil rolled her eyes, seeing that he wasn’t going to give her a chance to actually respond. She let the door fall above her once she’d descended down the stairs, making Miraak flinch a bit again. Casil folded her arms tightly across her chest as she made her way into the room, glaring at all the things Miraak had moved and touched. Miraak glanced up in mild irritation as Casil moved between him and the light of the forge.

‘And I thought I told you not to touch my things,’ Casil signed before crossing her arms again.

Miraak hunched over a bit, folding the bloody towel he’d been using in his hands. His chest didn’t look much better than his back - the wound was still open, though a bit more healed, but ritual scarring and the burn scar still covered a good portion of his bare skin. The stark light of the fire made all the imperfections of his skin stick out starkly, long shadows drawn out on scars and darkening dips. An irritated smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, tugging on the burned flesh of the side of his face and the stretch of jaw where his beard hadn’t grown back as a result. “I’m afraid it is difficult to distinguish your _things_ from _garbage_ here,” he said smoothly, before leaning back against the bed. His features twitched a bit in pain as his skin pulled at his wounds, but he made no other indication that he was hurting. “Why have you come down here? To _stare?_ ”

Casil rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She turned away, walking over to the forge area before starting to go through the row of safes along the wall. Miraak watched as she opened and closed them one by one, looking for something he likely moved at some point. 

“There isn’t anything down here that will help you defeat Alduin,” he remarked, picking up a small bottle of some sort of healing tonic Casil assumed he’d made from things he found in the garden. He poured a bit more out on the rag before returning to gingerly dabbing at the wound, unable to hold back the occasional grunt of pain when he came into contact with delicate flesh.

Casil ignored him. She knew he was probably right, but she didn’t want to concede to him. She glanced over her shoulder a few times though, watching him as he tried to deal with the wound alone. He hadn’t asked any of them for help, but Casil doubted he’d been doing a good job at keeping some of it clean if he couldn’t even reach or see it. She sighed, finally finding what she was looking for stashed away on top of one of  the shelves. Out of her reach. Of course it would be. Casil doubted its placement out of her reach was necessarily intentional, or at least any more than just the movement of all of her things had been, but she wasn’t about to climb the shelves to reach it or, worse, ask for Miraak’s assistance.

Reluctantly, Casil turned and looked back at Miraak in ernest. His own dark eyes had returned to watching her, the occasional glint of green flashing in their depths as his irises caught the dancing of the firelight. The bosmer tensed a bit, jaw clenching. She didn’t like the way he stared at her - it unnerved her. She grabbed a glass dagger that was within her reach to cover for the fact that she was unable to reach what she _had_ come down there for before swiftly starting to walk towards the stairs. She regretted coming down there at all, and if she could get out now maybe -

“What did you _really_ want, dragonborn?” Miraak asked, not bothering to watch her walk behind him.

Casil paused, stiffening. She tightened her grip around the hilt of the dagger. He was going to make her walk back over to him. Swallowing her fear and her pride, she slowly made her way back to the side of the bed, stopping so Miraak would have to at least turn his head to look at her. ‘Your back is infected.’

The slight smirk that was on his face disappeared quickly. Whatever answer he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. He tilted his chin up slightly, eyes narrowing once more. “You think I have not noticed?”

‘You haven’t asked for help.’

“Why would I do that?”

Casil wanted to ram the dagger into his stubborn face. Instead, she slapped it down on the bed next to him, snatching the potion off of the bed with a clean rag. She angrily made a motion for him to turn around as she poured the murky liquid out onto the rag.

Miraak scoffed. “I do not need-”

Casil’s face scrunched up, before she simply hopped onto the bed behind him. The older dragonborn looked back at her in alarm. Casil wasn’t taking ‘no’ as an answer today. She unceremoniously bounced down onto her knees behind him, and before he could try to pull away she slapped the rag and its contents onto the wound.

Miraak let out a snarl of pain, arching back stiffly. Casil made sure to keep the rag pressed against his back, half expecting him to pull away off the bed to escape. Miraak kept himself seated though, finally trying to relax after a few seconds. Casil gave Miraak her own snide smirk, setting the potion aside where it wouldn’t be knocked over as Miraak glowered at her.

“You are pushing it, dragonborn,” he growled, shuddering as Casil pulled the rag back. He turned his head away, glaring a bit at the forge fire so Casil couldn’t make any snide remarks. 

That was fine with Casil. As much as she’d love to fling him shit, his reluctance and attempt at ignoring her gave her a chance to actually take a look at his wound. From what she’d briefly seen, the one on his chest was doing much better - Miraak had actually been able to take care of that one and keep it clean. But this one was infected, with some pockets of pus forming where it was looking exceptionally gnarly. Casil made a face. His pride was keeping this from healing, and the wound itself was obviously bothering him. The last thing they needed if when they fought Alduin was Miraak struggling because he was too stubborn to ask for help to properly heal this wound. Gently, Casil worked on getting it clean, taking her time now that she’d made her point. To her relief, Miraak allowed her to with minimal complaints. Instead, he quietly watched the fire, spitting a curse in pain or digging his nails into his pant legs when Casil hit something tender.

It felt strange to be near him. The ebb of their souls was constantly present when she was close to him, and even when she was focused it gnawed at her chest. Did Miraak feel it too?

Casil pushed the thought out of her mind as she tossed the rag into the basket with the old bandages, picking up the new ones. 

“I don’t need your help,” Miraak said again, turning stiffly to try to grab them from her.

Casil pulled them away, shaking her head with a firm gaze. 

Miraak flashed sharpened teeth. “You’re being _childish_ , dragonborn. Give me the bandages. I do. Not. Need. Your. Help.” Casil narrowed her eyes back, leaning in to try to get one end to the front of his chest to start the warp, but Miraak grabbed her arm. He gave her wrist a firm squeeze, and finally Casil let go and recoiled in pain. Miraak snatched the bandages from her, sighing in frustration. “Leave. You have done enough,” he muttered, carefully trying to set the bandages himself.

Casil rubbed her wrist in frustration, watching as Miraak gingerly tried to reach around his back without causing too much of a stretch on his wound. Fine. If he wanted to be stubborn, he could suffer. She grabbed the knife from beside him, causing him to pause until Casil had pulled off of the bed and headed up the stairs. Casil slammed the cellar door behind her, making Miraak flinch again.

He was insufferable, and Casil didn’t know why she bothered helping.

 

Maybe Miraak was right. There really _wasn’t_ any purpose to packing. What could she, Jenassa and Sterlas actually _do_ against Alduin? They could fight any dragons that might assist him, but… the fight against Alduin himself really would be up to Miraak. Maybe they had just wasted the last few days vainly trying to prepare for something they’d hardly have a hand in.

Casil sighed, looking vacantly at the pages of _The Book of the Dragonborn._ They would just be back up, sidekicks, meat shields. Even her, the supposed _Last Dragonborn,_ would just be an accessory to Miraak’s ultimate victory. He would be the one to win, to claim the glory and power, to be the hero. And while Casil had never _wanted_ to be the hero, had never _wanted_ to be dragonborn… the idea of Miraak’s victory and glory left a heavy weight in Casil’s chest. 

Everything she’d tried to do so far, everything she worked on completing, every dragon she’d killed and every piece of information she’d uncovered was, ultimately, for nothing. The answer was, and perhaps always had been, Miraak. Her ultimate destiny had been to find him an answer and free him, and let him stride in for the kill. Casil did not want to be the hero, and she did not want to  be sung about for years to come, but she did not simply want to be _used_ either. 

Casil gritted her teeth, snapping the book closed before hurling it at the wall. It hit with a loud smack, clattering down to the ground where it lay half-open, a handful of pages bend at curled under it. Casil rolled onto her side and stared at the wall hard. Things hadn’t been fair.

 

Miraak heard the sound of something fall upstairs, making him lift his head from the series of maps he’d been inspecting at the table below. He waited, ears straining in the silence to piece together what it was that had fallen and why. Something in Casil’s room, which was where he’d last seen the bosmer slink off to after she’d eaten. He’d assumed she’d fallen asleep, but perhaps not.

He looked back down at the maps, trying to return back to his previous train of thought, but his mind kept finding itself wandering back to Casil. He gritted his teeth in frustration, before finally giving up. Maybe if he checked on her, it would ease his mind. That’s all it was. 

Slowly, Miraak made his way up the stairs to the bosmer’s room, keeping himself alert in case something was wrong. The upstairs was quiet though, and even as he reached Casil’s door he didn’t hear anything out of place behind it. Really, he heard nothing at all behind it, and that was about what he expected. His fingers hesitated at the doorknob.

No, he knew what he wanted. Nobody else was in the house but himself and Casil. He shook his head, trying to get it out of his mind before he grabbed the knob and pushed the door open.

Casil tensed as Miraak opened the door, having been waiting to see if his footsteps would leave or not. She rolled over to face him, furrowing her brow in confusion and concern as the atmoran stepped in, alarmingly to Casil, closed the door behind him. 

He glanced over at the book that lay crumpled against the wall at the far end of her bed. So that was what had made the noise. _The Book of the Dragonborn,_ hurled from the Last Dragonborn’s bed, who was sitting there with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Miraak’s fingers twitched a bit as he considered his actions, the silence heavy between them. Finally, he reached up and unhooked his mask, pulling it aside. 

Casil’s breath stilled as Miraak set his mask down on the dresser, his black eyes unreadable as he continued to look at the book on the ground. Slowly, he walked over to it, leaning over to pick it up. His hair cascaded around his face until he straightened out again, coming to rest on his chest instead now that it was free from under his hood. Miraak considered the book for a moment, gently adjusting the pages again so they had a chance at being flattened once more. Casil remained still, watching tensely as she awaited an answer for… everything he was doing, really.

Miraak walked over to the side of her bed before he sat down, flipping through a few of the very well-worn pages. “How long have you known that you were dragonborn?” Miraak questioned finally, his gaze lingering on the pages of the book.

Casil hesitated. ‘Over a year,’ she replied. 

Miraak hummed, before finally closing the book. Finally, he raised his gaze to look at Casil. Casil tensed more, pulling back as his solid black eyes looked her over. “Perhaps, then, it is wrong of me to expect so much from you, even if you _did_ have the voice,” he mused, his gaze empty. “You have had little time to understand any of your true nature… especially when so little of your nature is remembered.” He tossed the book aside on the ground again uncaringly, not breaking his gaze on Casil. “Everything they sing of, everything the write of, and they still know _nothing_ of what we are,” Miraak whispered, leaning now towards Casil.

Casil pushed back, feeling her throat tighten with the sensation of their souls drawing close again.

“How are they to expect you to be a true _dragonborn_ if they cannot remember what it means to be one?” Miraak chuckled lowly, reaching out to catch Casil’s chin with a hooked finger.

The motion and Miraak’s words caught Casil by surprise, making her freeze up for a moment with wide-eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned a bit closer, a grin forming on the edges of Miraak’s lips that left Casil feeling a bit alarmed. Casil forced herself to pull away, pushing herself back to the other side of the bed as rapidly as she could. She stared at Miraak, feeling like a cornered rabbit.

Miraak’s grin disappeared immediately, returning to what Casil could only assume was his usual flat, somewhat emotionless stare. Slowly, he lowered his hand, a glimmering in his eyes with flashes of green the only thing to imply that he had shifted his gaze to look down at the sheets.

‘What are you doing? What do you want?’ Casil signed, pulling her legs under her.

Miraak continued to stare down at the sheets, and the almost vacant look on his living features felt more uncanny and unnerving to Casil than his mask ever did. “...Perhaps I have come to realize, dragonborn, that I have been _unfair_ to you.” His gaze lifted again, a green flash of iridescence marking the edges of his irises in the darkness. “You and I are both _dragonborn,_ after all. Even if you cannot use your thu’um as I can… perhaps I am wrong to assume that you are _useless_ and beyond help.” His eyes narrowed a bit, falling silent. 

Casil swallowed, unsure of what to reply. Had something earlier today sparked this…?

Suddenly, Miraak lunged forwards, pulling Casil close. She inhaled sharply, but before she could protest the sensation of their souls left her breathless. She tensed, eyes widening as Miraak nearly pressed himself down against her, hunching over her as he pinned her under his much larger body. His giant form quivered, exhaling sharply against her temple. Weakly, Casil reached up and gripped the hem of his robes in resistance, but it was all she could manage. She couldn’t describe what she was feeling, but it was overwhelming.

“[Mu los dovahkiin… hi ahrk zu’u.](x) I cannot deny that any longer,” he breathed, fingers gripping the hem of her robes tightly.

Casil felt dizzy. She trembled under him, wanting to push him away but unable to find the strength. The sensation was too strong, somewhere between something she _needed_ and something she _wanted_ while being terrifying and foreign at the same time. Casil bit her lip roughly, trying to shake herself into doing _something._

Miraak didn’t move. Casil could feel his heavy breathing against the side of her head and the tickle of his hair where it brushed her cheek. 

Finally, Casil managed to push back against his chest. He hissed in pain as she pressed against the wound in his chest, causing him to move back enough for her to sign.

‘You want to kill me.’

Miraak’s black eyes locked with Casil’s yellow ones. “It is in our nature to dominate,” Miraak whispered impassively. 

‘Why are you doing this? Why don’t you kill me?’ Tears pricked at Casil’s eyes again, hands trembling in fear and confusion.

Miraak’s lips pursed. Casil could see his gaze shift a bit in the dim candle light. Finally, he gave a bitter chuckle, smirking. “The same reason you have not pushed me away. You feel it,” he hissed lowly. “Like killing a dragon. So close, and yet, so _far_.” He leaned in again, trying to pull Casil closer.

She managed to keep a little distance between them, putting a hand on his chest. A few tears slid down her cheeks, trying to keep her breath steady. She was scared, but at the same time…

“You’ve felt this since I came here. I know you have. I have too,” Miraak breathed, whetting his lips. He pulled back a bit at the pressure on his chest, but did not pull away. He moved to rest his head against the bed next to Casil’s head, pushing it against the crook of his arm. “[Zu’u paar kos vogut hi, dovahkiin. Ahrk daar wuth joor paar haalvutte rok lost lingrah vodahmin. Sili bahlok siliil. Zu’u nis qahnaar nii naan lingrah](x) _._ _”_

Casil’s heart pounded in her chest, making it almost hard to hear things as blood rushed through her ears. Her head spun, and everything was hard to process. She felt Miraak shift, feeling his lips ghost along her neck for a moment. She felt paralyzed in a strange mix of emotions, both wanting to run as far away as she could while not wanting to dare move an inch. Her fingers curled into the worn fabric of his robes, trying to push him back without hurting him if she didn’t have to. He obliged, but only for a moment.

Their eyes locked again, and Casil felt her breath catch in her throat. For the first time, she truly understood what she was looking at. She was looking into the eyes of an ancient, unknowably powerful dragon, only just bound in the frail flesh of a mortal. For the first time, Casil truly understood that he was _dragonborn._

He pressed his lips firmly against hers.

Casil felt the whole world still as her heart froze as well. His warm lips captured hers, deepening the kiss when Casil didn’t immediately shove him away. Every sensation that accompanied it felt new, felt _too much,_ and when things finally caught up Casil flinched and jabbed her palm into Miraak’s chest.

His eyes widened in shock, pulling back with a gasp of sharp pain. He fell back onto the bed, gripping at his chest with a loud groan.

Casil pulled back, gasping to catch her breath. She watched him writhe for a moment, caught in her own shock. 

He had just kissed her. He _kissed her._ Her breathing came out in short, shallow gasps, still feeling the warmth of his lips imprinted on hers.

Miraak flashed his fangs at her as he sat up a bit, and Casil immediately regretted her gut reaction. Before she could react, he had lashed out and grabbed her again, pinning her under his form. The brief break between their souls came back stronger, making Casil almost whimper. The sensation was enough to make Miraak pause as well with a low grunt, hanging his head a bit as he loomed over her. Casil shakily adjusted her hands, this time reaching up to grip the front of his robes for support.

She couldn’t deny that she was scared. She now understood what Miraak wanted, and it terrified her. She wasn’t sure she wanted that, let alone with _him,_ and perhaps it was her full lack of experience but… that kiss… had felt unlike anything she’d experienced. 

A piece of her craved more.

Their lips met again, and this time Casil tried to relax into it. She didn't know what to do, but Miraak seemed to have an agenda - and for once, Casil wondered if she should just let him have it. She felt his hands slide down from her shoulders to her sides, gliding over her hips before they fell on the sash that tied her robe together. Casil closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus on the nauseating draw of their souls, the warmth of his lips, the scratch of his beard, and occasional swipe of his tongue across her lower lip. He tugged her robe open, before breaking the kiss and forcing her arms away so he could pull it off. Before she could cling to him again, he gripped the hem of the bouse under it and swiftly yanked it off, leaving Casil exposed from the waist up.

Immediately, Casil covered her chest in shock, her cheeks and ears turning a scalding red. The haziness he’d locked her in was broken by fear again, and she tried to squirm away.

Miraak caught her, grabbing her hip in one hand while he planted the other next to her head. The soft texture of his well-worn leather gloves caressed the skin right above the hem of her pants, making her tremble and pull her arms against herself tighter. The look Miraak gave her reminded her of the way dragons looked at her when they thought she was going to be easy prey.

Miraak paused, looking Casil lover. He hadn’t truly taken the time to realize how… _tiny…_ Casil was. She was small enough that holding her hips to his and kissing her would be next to impossible to do at the same time, and without her robes he realized how _thin_ she was. Her ribs were obvious, and to his dismay she was… almost ridiculously flat-chested. 

Casil’s cheeks puffed up bashfully, shaking under his grip. She wasn’t sure what to do. She hardly let people hug her, let alone… anything like _this._ She kept wanting to back away, but to her dismay she also wanted _more,_ wanted to see where this went. More importantly, she didn’t want the damn feeling of being this close to his soul to leave. 

Miraak let go of her hip once Casil seemed to calm down again, holding her chin between his fingers. His breathing was heavy, smirking as he gave a short, sharp chuckle. “ _[Vahzah, mu los dovahkiin. Ful, hi fen kos dii](x), _ _”_ he purred, his voice a low rumble that made Casil’s cheeks burn a bit more. Even without being able to fully understand what he said, Casil couldn’t deny that his voice was always… _sexy._ He leaned in, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. Casil’s breath hitched, tilting her head back to allow him access as he explored with slow, deep movements. It was only a matter of time before Casil pulled her arms away to hold onto his robes again, closing her eyes as she focused on the wonderful feelings that bristled through her body. Miraak hummed lowly against the crook of her neck, running his hand up her side and back down to test her reaction. She shuddered, biting her lower lip before tensing. 

What in Oblivion was she doing? She squirmed again, making Miraak grunt. He was going to _kill_ her! All he had done was be nothing but rude to her since the met and-

Miraak bit down on the soft spot between her shoulder and her neck. Any thought Casil had vanished as she stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, lips parted in a silent moan. Her body unintentionally arched forward as he sucked sharply on the patch of skin, no doubt leaving a bright red hickey in its place. Casil moved to gripping the back of his robes, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. 

Miraak couldn’t help but chuckle, sliding his gloves off and throwing them to the side before he allowed himself a chance to slowly run his bare hands down her sides. The brush of her skin against his felt divine. He slowly explored every dip and curve from her ribs to her hips, leaving another hickey along her neck before he pulled away. Casil was panting lightly, the deep red color still painting her cheeks and chest. She moved to try to cover herself again now that his gaze was actually on her, but he immediately stopped her. He grabbed both of her wrists into one hand, easily able to keep both locked in his grip, before his other hand slid up to brush along the underside of one of her breasts. 

Casil let out a soft whimper, squirming a bit in shame and insecurity before his thumb brushed up against her nipple. Her body quivered, inhaling sharply before letting out a very strained whine as he began to rub. She had never been touched like that before, and it was overwhelming. Everything was overwhelming. The feeling of his skin, the draw of their souls, how her head spun, how she felt like she was on fire, the slickness between her legs she could only guess was _arousal…_

“[ Grik mal dovah ](x)_…_ ” Miraak teased, savoring the sensations of physical contact. He finally slid his hand down to the hem of her pants, hooking his finger over the edge before pulling them and her undergarments off in one practiced movement.

Casil’s eyes went wide, and immediately she tried to close her legs. Miraak forced his hand between them, ignoring her struggling. Casil felt her heart jump into her throat, realizing quickly really what this meant,  but Miraak wasn’t going to let her go. Not now. His index finger pressed against her clit, and Casil stilled sharply. The slow drag of his finger down between her folds was almost too much for he bosmer. 

She had never been one to touch herself, or have much of a sex drive at all. Miraak slowly slid his fingers up and down between her folds, not pushing in, but putting _just_ enough pressure that it made Casil want to cry in both fear and frustration. Her hips jerked up a bit against her will, tears pricking at her eyes again as she let out a few muffled whimpers. He didn’t even seem to notice her straining against his hand to break free, and instead seemed fully invested in watching how quickly it became easy to slide his fingers back and forth.

Casil wanted to cry. She wanted so badly for him to stop, and she wanted so badly for him to stay right where he was. The conflicting emotions paired with the sensation of their souls and the sensations Miraak was drawing out of her body was too much. She let out the loudest sort of wail she could manage - a soft, painful noise Miraak had almost ignored.

He shifted his gaze to her, eyes empty. He finally let go of Casil, watching her for a moment, as she very feebly tried to push herself away. She only got a few inches, legs trembling badly as she hugged her arms to her chest again. She stared at him with a mix of feelings, burying half of her face into the sheets as she trembled like a leaf.

Miraak cocked his head to the side, before reaching up to unhook his armor. Casil felt a few tears roll down her cheeks, unable to pull her gaze away as the other dragonborn stripped down. “You can feel it, Casil,” Miraak whispered, letting each piece of clothing fall away one by one. “ _[Ni qahnaar zu’u daar. Zu’u nis fun hi ful zu’u laat vahdin, ahrk zu’u nis qahnaar lovaas do siliil naan lingrah. ](x)__”_

It was one thing seeing him the previous day without his shirt, but now… Casil turned to look away, allowing him to climb on the bed after her and pull her body close again. She let out a pitiful exhale of relief at the sensation of their proximity again, digging her nails into her skin in frustration. She felt him teasingly nibble at her earlobe, making her loosen up enough for him to bring one leg up to hook on his hip. Her breathing picked up again, reaching out to grip his shoulders tightly as he positioned himself over her. She felt the onset of panic as he tilted her back, ignoring her feeble pushes on his shoulders as he felt the brush of his length over her mound a few times before he finally pushed in.

Casil jerked forward, her teeth sinking into Miraak’s shoulder as hard as she could as he suddenly slammed into her, trying to drag her hips flush to his in one movement. Tears cascaded out of her eyes as pain ripped through her, a strangled cry exiting her throat that was drowned out by Miraak’s own snarl. 

He hadn’t been expecting that. He immediately went still, feeling Casil dig her nails into his back as hard as she could, her legs locked tightly around his hips while she continued to bite into his shoulder. 

She felt like she was being split in half. Even with her arousal, it was too much. She let out a soft whimper with each shuddery breath, now just scared more than anything else.

Miraak tried to shift his hips into her more, and Casil bit down harder. He hissed, before slowly trying to pull back. Casil closed her eyes, hot tears cascading onto his shoulder until he’d finally pulled out. He reached up and gently stroked her cheek, easing her off of his shoulder until she let go with spittle-y bridge of blood. Miraak pulled back as much as Casil would let him, her thin hands still clutching his shoulders for support. She looked away, shaking ever harder as Miraak looked down.

Blood.

Miraak paused. “...You’ve never been with a man before, have you?”

Casil shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

Miraak exhaled slowly, before adjusting her body against his. He held her with one arm, grabbing a few pillows to support her before he gingerly leaned her back again. Casil didn’t let go of him, holding him tightly for comfort as he angled himself again. “Relax,” he whispered softly, gently easing himself back into her.

Casil stiffened, biting her lower lip hard as he entered her again. He was… huge. She’d seen plenty of men without their clothing while getting supplies for necromancy and while raiding battlefields, and from what she could gather, Miraak was just… big. He was a big man, with a dick to match, and she was very, _very_ small. And she’d never had sex before. She tried to relax, burying her face into his chest just above his wound as pushed deeper. Miraak let out a deep groan, his chest rumbling like an earthquake beneath her cheek. 

Divines, she was _tight._ His eyes fluttered a bit, trying to maintain even the barest amount of control so he wouldn’t break her. It had been so long since he’d had a chance to enjoy such carnal pleasures, all he wanted to do was sate himself. But Casil…

Slowly, he began to thrust. Casil tightened her legs around him, letting him control the pace. Her fingers dragged down his back a bit. She felt too full. He felt like he was going to stretch her past her limit, whatever that was, and break her. But that burning sensation didn’t leave. The dizzying coil in her stomach only got worse with each thrust, and the way her body tingled when pressed against his was exhilarating. 

Miraak reached down, gripping her ass with one hand while he grabbed the headboard with the other for support, leaning over to bite a pillow above her roughly as he bucked his hips harder. Each thrust drew a soft whimper and a few more tears from Casil. She reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand, tangling her fingers in the black strands for support as his bucking got harder. Even with his fingers between the wall and the headboard, the bed creaked and rocked loudly, and Miraak didn’t remotely hold back his groans. Casil felt a mix of excitement and shame at each very _vocal_ groan Miraak let out, the low, baritone notes sounding like music  to her ears.

He dug his fingers into her ass, tilting her up slightly before Casil arched back hard with a gasp. She felt his hips fully connect with hers, and she felt her body give way to somewhere she felt like he shouldn’t be. Her fingers dragged bloody welts down his back, drawing blood out of her own lip as well as he started to repeatedly hilt her. She felt so full, _too_ full - he was too much. He was huge in her. Her body weakly tried to squeeze around him, and Miraak gave a delicious moan in response.

“ _Geh, pruzah vahdin_ ,” he whispered shakily, smirking at her for a moment. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead roughly against the headboard. He wasn’t going to last, especially not when she kept clawing at him and tightening around him. He gave a few more shameful thrusts into her before he pulled out with a long, drawn out moan of satisfaction, spilling thick ropes of cum over Casil’s stomach.

Casil tensed up, feeling the hot ropes splash across her skin. The silence that fell between the two was only punctuated by their labored breathing and Casil’s very soft whines that accompanied each exhale. He pulled back, and Casil let go, weakly letting her arms fall onto her chest. She watched as he slid off the bed, before closing her eyes.

She felt… empty. Her body ached, and the absence of his soul felt more pronounced than ever. She heard him quietly shuffle around the room, and she half expected him to just leave her there covered in his mess. But, to her surprise, he came back after a moment. 

Miraak scooped her up, gently pulling her up against his body. Casil tiredly cracked an eye as Miraak wipe her stomach and her slit clean. Her body gave a tired shudder, but that didn’t seem to be the end to it. Miraak dropped the rag to the side before making sure she was settled in his lap against him, leaning himself back against the pillows. Casil furrowed her brow before she felt one of his hands slide down between her legs again, before his thumb pressed up against her bud. Casil stiffened, reaching back nervously to grab him.

“Relax,” he whispered against the side of her head, bringing his other arm up under hers to help support her. 

She nodded, trying not to watch as he slowly began to rub her clit. Slowly, the initial soreness passed, and Casil soon felt herself having to push back into Miraak to keep herself still. It felt… _good._ A soft moan escaped her lips, reaching up to grab his free hand as he picked up his pace. To her embarrassment, it didn’t take long before she let out a sharp squeak, feeling herself come undone for the first time in earnest. Miraak kept ahold of her until her gentle spasms subsided and she relaxed in his arms again.

Miraak shifted them, dragging the two of them under the sheets. Weakly, Casil gripped to the bandages on his chest, overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

Casil furrowed her brow, shakily trying to raise her hands. She didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but Miraak grabbed her hands before she could formulate a response. 

“Rest now, _silyoli_ ,” Miraak breathed quietly, kissing the side of her head softly. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Casil frowned, but let her arms drop back down. Maybe it was better not to know. Maybe she’d never know. She closed her eyes, unconsciously burying her face into his chest. 

The gentle hum of his soul lulled her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mu los dovahkiin… hi ahrk zu’u.** \- We are dragonborn, you and I.
> 
>  **Zu’u paar kos vogut hi, dovahkiin. Ahrk daar wuth joor paar haalvutte rok lost lingrah vodahmin. Sili bahlok siliil. Zu’u nis qahnaar nii naan lingrah.** \- I desire to be close to you. And this old mortal craves feelings he has long forgotten. My soul craves yours. I cannot resist it any longer.
> 
>  **Vahzah, mu los dovahkiin. Ful, hi fen kos dii** \- Truly, we are dragonborn. So, you will be mine.
> 
>  **Grik mal dovah** \- Such a small dragon
> 
>  **Ni qahnaar zu’u daar. Zu’u nis fun hi ful zu’u laat vahdin, ahrk zu’u nis qahnaar lovaas do siliil naan lingrah.** \- Don’t deny me this. I cannot tell you when I last had a woman, and I cannot resist the song of your soul any longer.


End file.
